


Divergent Paths

by CarelessHux (AraSigyrn)



Series: Points of Convergence [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption the hard way, Time Travel!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 118,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/CarelessHux
Summary: Loving someone enough to die for them is one thing.  Loving someone enough to try and save them is something else entirely.Because sometimes, if you want to fix one thing, you have to fix a lot of things that went before it....
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Bail Organa/Breha Organa, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Points of Convergence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832140
Comments: 179
Kudos: 242





	1. Prologue: Who Knows

The planet is a miserable den of desperate and greedy folk, only inhabited because the marshy terrain makes pursuit difficult. It has been a long and tedious negotiation for the six previous days. Naturally, that means that the last six hours have been chaos and ambushes by criminals hoping to sabotage the talks. Qui-gon’s Master sent him running for the marshes as a diversion.

"Qui-gon karking Jinn," the redhead spits.

"Now is not the time," Qui-gon throws another smuggler back with a thrust of the Force and his foot skids out from under him. He throws his weight forward but it's already too late. The swamp sucks him in and there's an instant of blind panic as his control of the Force momentarily escapes him.

"So much for the _kriffing_ Force," a surprisingly strong hand seizes his collar and he's hauled bodily out of the muck. His unexpected ally pulls an unfamiliar blaster and shoots the nearest smuggler.

"Run!" Qui-gon calls his lightsabre to his hand and matches action to word.

He doesn't recognise all of the words that his new ally uses but the frustration crackles through the Force around him. They keep running until the sounds of pursuit fall away and Qui-gon finds a shadowy nook between two decaying fungi.

He looks to his lightsabre, then his companion. He does not recognize the uniform, stark black and severe. It makes the young man's red hair stand out. He might even, Qui-gon thinks, be handsome if he didn't scowl so fiercely. He must be about Qui-gon’s age, perhaps a little older.

"My thanks," Qui-gon says and the young man snorts. "You know my name but I confess, I do not remember yours."

"You never knew it," the young man looks out into the murk. "They're coming."

"I would like to know your name first," Qui-gon says as reasonably as possible.

"Hux," the young man says. "Now, run."

Qui-gon runs again and when he turns to look back, Hux is gone.

* * *

The Jedi Temple is never wholly quiet, even in the darkest hours of the night. Jedi come and go as the Force and the Council dictate. Even when the night is quiet, Coruscant never sleeps and the Force presence of so many sentients is a constant clamour outside of the shielded meditation areas.

Obi-Wan still feels like he's the only one awake in the whole Temple.

He can't sleep and the nursery attendant is busy with another youngling who is sick. He slips out and walks through the corridors. The Temple is very different in the dark. The ceilings fade into the shadows and the halls echo when there's only his footsteps. He shuffles along, searching for a private garden.

Jedi meditate when things are difficult.

Obi-Wan is a Jedi. He's nearly old enough to have a Master. Several of his age-mates have already left the nursery. He's nearly the oldest youngling left. He's gotten in trouble during morning meditation, watching the Jedi knights and masters in their robes walking through the Temple. One of them will be his Master soon and Obi-Wan can hardly wait!

He hurries to the crystal garden, walking a little faster when the shadows move. He's not a baby. He doesn't cry. He isn't scared. He's just going to-to meditate.

The garden isn't empty. Obi-Wan doesn't realize this until the door closes behind him. He tries not to look; it's rude to stare when another Jedi is meditating. Then he looks and he has to stare.

The man standing in the shadow doesn't look like a Jedi. He's wearing black. It looks more like the uniforms that some visitors wear when they come to the Temple. He looks like one of the statues, pale and angular. He has his hands folded behind his back, like Knight Windu when he's taking a class.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" The man says without looking around.

"I can't sleep," Obi-Wan admits. "I came to meditate."

"Ah," the man turns his head enough that Obi-Wan can see pale eyes. "Carry on, then."

Obi-Wan sits down and crosses his legs. He jumps a little at the sound of a speeder and peeks up at the man.

"Just an engine," the man says. "You can meditate. I'll stand watch."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes again. There's a thread of sound weaving through the Force, like a lullaby and Obi-Wan breathes deep and easier. He doesn't even notice when meditation becomes sleep. Master Yoda finds him in the garden the next morning. The man is gone.

* * *

Padme is chasing pikobis. The sun is setting and the music from mama's party is spilling out from the house. The pikobis have been circling the kitchen door all evening. The servants have been shooing them away.

Mama's party is supposed to be her party; her birthday. But the other children have gone to sleep or back to their parents. She is supposed to be sleeping but the chirrups of the pikobis came from the dark.

She runs after the skittering creatures, giggling and splashing through the mud. She doesn't worry, until she turns around and all she can see is darkness. The pikobis scatter and suddenly she is all alone. Everything is quiet. All around her, the grass stirs and shadows flicker.

"Mama?"

She hears footsteps. She looks around and sees a man standing in the grass.

"Mama?"

"No," the voice is strange and she almost runs. But he doesn't sound scary. She hesitates. "You should be at home."

"Pikobi!" she points at the shadows and one chirrups.

"What the-?" The man peers down at the grass. "Ah. I see."

He hunkers down to look at them and Padme stares at his hair. "Pretty!"

"I-well, doubtless they're a...an acquired taste."

Padme reaches up and pats his hair. The man rears backwards but he doesn't fall over. He blinks at her and she lifts her hands again. "Pretty?"

"I-" the man closes his eyes for a moment. "If you must. May I at least bring you part of the way home?"

Padme considers and claps her hands. "Pretty!"

The man picks her up and Padme pats at his hair. It's stiff at first but soft under her fingers. The man sighs and settles her against his shoulder, humming a tune she doesn't recognize. He's warm in the cool evening air and the tune feels like one of her mama's songs. Padme falls asleep as the moons rise and wakes in her own bed.

Her mama says she fell asleep in the garden. "Scared us," she says. Mama says that the man was a dream but Padme can feel his hair under her fingers. It's a secret, she decides. Her own little secret.

* * *

Qui-gon kneels in the small garden, vainly searching for tranquility. The Force is silent to his pleas and, in the absence of its surety, his doubts swarm his mind. Fear lurks in every thought. Memories of Xanthos, all now tainted, intrude with every breath. For the first time in years, he even struggles to control his breathing.

"You should say yes," a faintly familiar voice says.

Qui-gon startles; the Force had given no warning nor had he heard anyone approach. He opens his eyes and blinks at the man standing in the shadow of the great tree. There is a moment of confusion before his gaze snags on red hair and the memory resurfaces a moment later.

"Hux."

The man inclines his head, folding his hands behind his back. The mannerism seems oddly military though Qui-gon has never found any satisfactory match for the austere black uniform. He looks almost exactly as Qui-gon remembers him. 

"You should say yes," Hux repeats. "You're going to have him as a padawan eventually. Drawing the process out is unnecessary."

"I'm not fit-" Qui-gon starts then pauses. He felt no contact through the Force, no sense of another awareness in his mind. "How did you know what I was meditating over?"

Master Yoda had promised him. Promised that the meeting was private between them! He had promised Qui-gon would have time to consider and make his decision. He had promised that even the rest of the Council would not be told until Qui-gon was ready. Why would he have confided in another? And in a _Force-null_?

"Are all Jedi so condescending?" Hux's lip curls.

Qui-gon feels a brief burst of shame before he realizes, again, that Hux could _not_ have known his thoughts. This time, he extends his awareness through the Force and finds...nothing? No, not nothing. Hux seems little more than a shadow in the vibrant swirl of the living Force. But, the more Qui-gon focuses on him, the more his presence deepens and becomes richer. It is like looking into a night sky and watching distant stars come into focus. "Who are you?"

"Hux. As I said."

"What are you doing here?" Qui-gon rises to his feet. "Why does it matter to you that I take Obi-Wan as a padawan?"

"Because it has to happen." Hux glances up at the high walls of the Temple. "You've very nearly convinced them, you know? The Council is considering just giving the boy to Windu."

"Mace is a good man," Qui-gon says immediately, "and a _great_ Jedi. Obi-Wan will learn much from him."

"A great Jedi?" Hux spits. "Perhaps. In a Galaxy that doesn't dare to offend him by changing. Obi-Wan will learn inflexibility, rigidity and how to close his mind to anything he does not understand. And when it matters? When the fate of the Galaxy itself hangs in the balance? He will snap like a dry twig!"

Qui-gon snaps his mouth shut. Then he takes three deliberate breaths. Hux watches him, eyes narrow. Qui-gon finds, this close, he can achieve tranquility. Hux's emotions are almost indistinguishable from the flow of the Living Force but Qui-gon is sure that he is sincere. He searches his own feelings. "You have not said why this matters to you, my friend."

"The fate of the Galaxy is not a sufficient reason?" Hux snorts. Qui-gon holds his peace. "There are ...dark times coming. The Jedi Order is an ossifying relic of what it needs to be. When they are needed, they will fail. I cannot stop the onslaught but I can —perhaps— I can mitigate the worst of the consequences."

"I see," Qui-gon pauses. "Well, I do not. I can understand your sincerity and that? I can put my faith in."

"The Jedi are not practicing what they preach. Dogma has replaced virtue." Hux seems almost uncomfortable. His voice is quieter. "You will teach him compassion and the importance of people over systems."

"I will," Qui-gon bows his head. Hux is gone when he lifts his head again. He stands for a moment, savouring the serenity of a decision made. Then he dusts off his robes and leaves the garden. Master Yoda will not expect him for another hour but there are preparations he will need to make to properly prepare for a padawan. He intends to be completely ready for Obi-Wan when the boy leaves the creche.

* * *

Shmi meets the man in the uniform on a miserably hot day where even the droids can barely function. She is early in her pregnancy, so early that only she even suspects. It is confusing but a private joy. She has spent her few free hours trying to remember but she has not had a lover for nearly a planetary cycle.

She has only a small room in a larger house with three older slaves who work the salt mine and her few possessions look lost in the space. She doesn't know how she will raise a child here.

The cooling unit for the house is old and rattles alarmingly. It cuts out after first noon and Shmi goes out to inspect it. The sun is blinding and the heat boils off the ground and the walls. She pauses in the shade of a half-ruined ship but the heat is still almost overwhelming.

She makes it to the cooling unit, the sunlight hazing off the metal and bends to look at it.

"It's the power coupling," a voice comes from behind her and she startles.

She does not know the man who stands behind her, skin as pale as a dead thing and hands folded awkwardly behind him. He lifts his chin, gesturing to the unit. Shmi looks at the unit and sees the sand clogged around the wiring.

"I could help?"

"And what would that cost?" Shmi asks.

The young man considers. "You could tell me your name?"

"Done," Shmi says. There is nothing special about her name.

The young man comes forward, sweating already and bends over the unit. Shmi takes a good look at him. He doesn't look like a slave. Well, not the sort of slave that works in the sands. Shmi has seen hair the colour of sunset on the slaves that are kept in the Hutts' palace. He can’t be a scavenger’s slave but he fixes the unit easily.

"Thank you," she says and he nods, standing stiffly. "My name is Shmi Skywalker."

"Ah," he closes his eyes for a moment. "May I ask...are you pregnant?"

Shmi's hands find her stomach. The stranger sighs and his eyes, when he opens them, are dark with emotion. She feels a chill in her blood. 

"I-ah," the stranger looks to one side, "congratulations."

"Thank you," Shmi says.

"You should-" he looks back at the hut. "The heat is very strong, you should be inside."

"You are not from around here," Shmi says and he dips his head. "Who are you?"

"Call me Hux," he says. "I...I want to help."

Shmi looks at him, with those old, sorrowful eyes in such a young face. He doesn't look like a kind man but he fixed the unit. He doesn't belong here. He doesn't seem entirely real. 

"I don't know how much I can," Hux admits to the dry air and the distant horizon.

"Thank you," Shmi says again and he flinches.

He leaves her with two new water carriers, full of tepid water and three new blankets, soft and barely stained. He tells her that he doesn't know when he'll be back but he will be back. He walks with her back around the huts until she is nearly to the door and sees her safely through the arch.

It all feels like a heat dream but she wakes that night with her new blankets to keep away the aching chill and feels hope in her chest.

* * *

Breha Organa finds a bench in one of the public parks, half-hidden by the new spring growth. She sits down and looks at her hands. They're only shaking a little and she blinks fiercely until the tears stop threatening to spill down her cheeks. She breathes in, counts to five and breathes out.

It isn't the end of the world, she thinks.

Alderaan fertility rates are in the bottom twentieth percentile of the Galaxy and have been declining for years. There's almost no stigma attached these days. It isn't terrible. She's young and has her whole life to spend doing meaningful things.

Her breath hitches a little and she rubs angrily at her eyes.

There's a polite cough and a square of black cloth dangles just in front of her face. She snatches it and dabs at her eyes, humiliation burning her cheeks. The man who owns the handkerchief politely averts his eyes until she stops sniffling. He's a stranger which is better and worse simultaneously; she's mortified but he isn't going to be gossiping about it to her mother's courtiers.

He's dressed like an off-worlder, all stark black and precise lines. It's a uniform, she thinks but she doesn't recognize it. He is striking though, pale as a spacer with glorious red hair. He must be betrothed, she thinks, probably to one of the Houses. He’s certainly well-mannered enough although she's heard nobody bragging about such a handsome catch.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"I'm fine." She straightens her robes and holds out the handkerchief. "Thank you."

"A pleasure to be of service," he says and she thinks his accent sounds almost Courscenti. He could be a noble from the holo-dramas. She could be a poor noblewoman with a tragic problem. It feels like a play for a moment and Breha forgets that he is a stranger for that moment.

"I was at the doctor's," she says into the polite silence, "and they told me I'm infertile. I'll never be a mother."

Her lower lip wobbles precariously and the handkerchief is offered immediately.

"Nonsense," the stranger says in a clipped tone. Breha stares at him. "You might not carry a child but that is the least part of being a parent."

It's terribly cliche and she looks back down at her hands, feeling deflated. He blows out a breath.

"My 'mother' gave me up to a father who beat and abused me," he says in a carefully-neutral tone. "To the extent that I genuinely was lucky to survive to adulthood. I don't remember her nor do I wish to. The woman who gave me shelter and the protection of her name? I loved her and I would have been proud to call her 'mother' if circumstances had allowed."

Breha looks up with wide eyes. The man looks away, hiding his discomfort. He squares his shoulders.

"All of that to say, ma'am, that bearing a child is not the same thing as becoming a parent."

"Thank you," she says and wishes for Bail's poetic soul. The words seem flat, as cliched as everything the doctor told her. "I am too young to be a mother now but maybe in the future..."

"I wish you the very best," the man offers her a very small smile and a very formal bow, "and I will leave you to enjoy the park in peace."

Breha presses a hand to her chest and inclines her head. The man pivots and strides away. Breha looks after him and sees Bail coming in the gate. Her love spares the stranger a single, bemused glance then spots her and runs to her side.

"Breha! Your mother has been trying to comm you for an hour!" He falls to his knees in front of her, gathering her hands to press kisses to her knuckles. "I was so worried!"

"It was nothing," she smiles at him. "Just a medical check-up."

* * *

Shmi's labour starts at noon. Watto, clumsy and almost fearful, gives her easy work for the rest of the day. The pains are intense but fleeting at first and she paces slowly around the shop when they come. The work goes slowly and Watto blusters at her to work harder.

In the third hour of her labour, Shmi finds she cannot sit for more than a couple of minutes. Watto pointedly avoids looking at her so he doesn't have to correct her. She goes out into the dead heat for water and finds Hux by the pump.

"Today's the day, then." He offers her a cup of water.

"I think so," she smiles at him then winces. "I have to finish my work first."

Hux blinks at her, eyes flicking down to her belly and back up. "That ...seems unwise."

"I am a slave," she reminds him. "I must work."

"I see," Hux's lips purse and he follows her back to Watto's shop. Her owner looks around and Shmi sees his words die on his lips. Hux turns back to Shmi. "What do you have to do?"

He turns out to know more about parts and engines than she expected and he takes her place at the bench. She walks up and down every few minutes, leaving oil stains on her smock as she kneads at her belly. Hux watches her and fetches her more water when the heat settles in.

"Maybe I should keep you too, heh?" Watto says, only half-joking. She doesn't see what Hux does exactly. It looks like he just steps far into Watto's personal space but her master backs up until his wings are smacking into the walls. "Just a joke! It's just a joke! Can't you humans take a joke?"

"Tell one and we'll find out," Hux says, cold as space. He turns back to the bench, throws the last of the workable salvage onto the pile and pins Watto with an icy look. "There. Done for the day, yes?"

"Ye-yes! Done, done for the day!" Watto edges along the wall to the door. "Very good work, both of you. Go home."

Shmi doesn't blame him. There is something about Hux's ice that chills the blood. She has spent her life around desperate and dangerous folk and she has never seen eyes like Hux's. He is a very dangerous man, more dangerous because he can hide his ice and fury. Even the Hutts’ enforcers do not cross Hux. Shmi does not fear him.

He lets her lean on his arm and walks her back to her hut. He goes for the mammalian wise-wife and fetches and carries for her as if he were a droid. The wise-wife, Firra, clucks her tongue when he peers dubiously around the door.

"Your first?" she asks and Shmi nods. "He'll learn."

Shmi laughs but a groan cuts through her attempt to explain. Her son, impatient already, is born less than an hour later. She holds him in her arms and weeps for the joy of it. He yawns with a perfect little pink mouth and blinks eyes as blue as the memory of her mother's.

"A hearty child," Firra tells her with a weary smile. "Healthy lungs and a good size."

"Thank you," Shmi says.

"I'll tell Watto not to expect you for the week," Firra says as she rises for the door. Shmi hears her speaking to someone outside, then Hux clears his throat from the doorway. His eyes are politely averted from where Shmi's son is suckling.

"Do you need anything?" he asks in that same awkward tone. There's a flush in his cheeks, embarrassment or sun, she can't tell. 

"Come and see," she detaches her son who complains lustily. Hux winces at the noise but bends to inspect the babe. Shmi has to hide a smile at the deeply dubious expression on his face. "Hux, meet Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

Hux's eyes are dark but his smile is real. "Hello, Anakin Skywalker. It's good to meet you."

Anakin wails, waving his hands and Shmi draws him back down to feed. Hux backs away, looking uncomfortable. Shmi settles herself in her blankets as he slips out of the door. Her son is a warm, breathing wonder against her skin and she tries to form some prayer of gratitude but all her words fail her.

 _Thank you,_ she thinks to the Force. _Thank you. Thank you._

* * *

JarJar pokes his head up, just enough that he can see. He doesn't like the land, no sir! He ducks back into the water. He can see the lights of Gonga city far below. That's where a Gungan should be. Not up in the dry places where the Naboo are. He bobs in the water until the sun sets and he can see all the lights.

Then he kicks his feet until there's mud under his fingers. He comes out of the water all creepy like so no-one will notice him. There's poor eating in the muddy places if you don't have a blaster.

JarJar doesn't have a blaster. He took one from a Naboo once and it had made such a big-big noise that they'd come looking and Jar-jar had gone back to the water. The blaster hadn't made any noises after that. Boss Nass had been so-oh furious.

JarJar's hungry. He pokes around the plants in hopes of something. Some peoples say you can eat plants. JarJar ate some plants once when his buddy Geru dared him. He was sick for days!

"Here." 

JarJar jumps with a wail, hurrying hisself back to the water. The strange Naboo doesn't chase him. Just stands there like Boss Nass does when JarJar's explaining what he's been doing. JarJar pokes his eyes out of the water. He's never seen a Naboo who looks like that. 

"If you don't want the karking thing, you don't have to take it," the Naboo says, all grumpy.

"Ting?" JarJar pokes his head up. The Naboo points to the plants and JarJar has to blink a couple of times before he sees it. "Fish!!" 

He has it in his mouth, almost in his belly before he thinks that maybe he shouldn't have taken it all. The Naboo is looking at him. It's hard to tell what they's thinking. He tries to say something. 

"No, no," the stranger smiles, he thinks, and steps back. "All yours. I don't like fish." 

Don't like fish?! Well then, JarJar can eat it all. So he does. The Naboo watches him and looks a little like they's sick. JarJar hopes they're not gonna be sick. He doesn't know nothing about Naboo. He swallows all his fish and burps. The Naboo leans back. "You's okay?"

"Fine, thank you." The Naboo looks around. "You should find a hiding place up here. Your chief won't be angry with you forever but you'll do better if you have somewhere safe."

"Maybe," JarJar allows. "You's might be right."

"I am," the Naboo sighs. "Be careful."

"Always am!" JarJar smiles real big. The Naboo looks at him real funny and sighs.

"Try not to do anything completely stupid," they say, "like dying."

"Well!" JarJar spins around and gets hisself all tangled up in his ears. When he gets hisself untangled, the Naboo is gone. "How _rude_!"

* * *

Anakin doesn't mean to do it. He's not stupid. He's not a kid anymore. His mom lets him go on errands by himself. Watto lets him go to the market with him. He's responsible.

It's just Sebula is a dust-sucking sand fly who never misses a chance to be a jerk!

Anakin is looking for new photo-receptors for his mom's protocol droid. He can't figure out why they keep burning out but Threepio doesn't function properly if he can't see. Ani doesn't like the way he wails when he switches on and it upsets his mom. It upsets Ani even though he knows Threepio is only a droid.

He's been trading favours with the scrap dealers for weeks. He even traded a power-coupling from his pod to get these receptors. So of course, Sebula snatches it right out of his hands. Ani manages to grab them back but Sebula is pulling at his tunic and hissing insults.

It's stupid. He knows better than to pick a fight with a Dug. He does. Really he does. But Sebula's such a _jerk_!

He doesn't realise how much trouble he's in until Sebula knocks him into a wall. They're between houses with nobody watching. He's on his own and when Sebula slams him back into the wall, Ani can't breathe.

Sebula's hissing cuts off suddenly. Ani blinks the sand out of his eyes. There's a shadow looming over Sebula with an arm curved around his neck. Sebula is frozen in place.

"Let him go." 

"Hux!" Ani rasps.

"Ani," Hux doesn't look away from Sebula. "I said. Let. Him. Go."

" _Sandhumping puddle wallower,_ " Sebula spits but he lets Ani slid down the wall, feet hovering in space with his toes twitching. Hux must do something because he shuts his mouth with a slap, going still.

"Are you all right, Ani?" Hux asks.

"I'm fine!" Ani rubs at his eyes. He's not going to cry over stupid Sebula! "He stole my photo-receptors." 

"Did he now?" Hux's voice goes all smooth and mean. He's never talked to Ani like that or his mom but he can chase Watto clear out of town just by saying 'Good morning' with that voice. "Pod-racing getting too challenging for you, Sebula? Trying your hand at being a thief?" 

" _Just a joke!_ " Sebula lies. Hux hums and Ani thinks he leans into Sebula a little. Sebula makes a really stupid sound and throws the photoreceptors on the sand. " _It was just a joke!_ "

"Ha. Ha." Hux lets go and Sebula skitters backwards. He doesn't even look at Ani, just at Hux. Ani catches a flash of something as he scoops up the photo-receptors and tries to shake the sand off them. "You should save your jokes for your friends, Sebula. If you ever actually make any."

Sebula says something that Ani's mom wouldn't explain to him and runs off. Hux watches him go before he turns back to Ani.

"Are they intact?" 

"Yup," Ani says. "I think so. They're just sandy."

"That's easily fixed," Hux folds his arms behind him. He always stands like that when he's not doing something. Ani shakes the sand off the photo-receptors. "See?" 

"Uh-huh," Ani puts them in his belt-pocket carefully. Then he launches himself at Hux. Hux catches him easily and Ani hugs him. "You've been gone for aaaaaaaaages!" 

"Have I?" Hux is smiling. "I can't have been gone that long. You're only a foot taller than you were last time."

"I'm six now," Ani says with a huff.

"Practically a grown man," Hux hefts him up easily. Hux always says he's just a human but he's always been strong enough to lift Ani. "I suppose you have more important things to do than talk to an old friend who you haven't seen in so long."

"You're staying!?"

"For a little while," Hux's smile fades a little. "If you and your mother don't mind."

"Mom's always happy to see you," Ani dismisses. He should be telling Hux to put him down. He's not a little kid. He doesn't need to be carried. He doesn't say anything. Hux is weird about things sometimes. If Ani asks to be put down, Hux will put him down. But he'll never pick him up again either. "And I want you to help. Threepio's left hip keeps locking."

"I’m not surprised. Most protocol droids have issues with their joints." Hux lets him slide down to the ground. Ani grabs his hand. Hux freezes for a second and Ani ignores it. Hux doesn't let anyone but Ani and his mom touch him. Ani's mom says that he's shy. Ani doesn't think 'shy' is the right word but he doesn't know a better one.

He leads Hux back to his workshop and they spend the hot hours fixing Threepio's knee joint. Ani loves working on things with Hux. Hux never talks to him like he's just a kid. He knows all sorts of things about engines and circuits and he's really good at explaining things. Ani doesn't think there's a smarter man on the whole planet. Finally, Hux says that the only thing left to do is switch Threepio on and see how it works.

"Greetings, I am C3PO, human cyborg relations," Threepio says. "Oh, Master Ani. Master...I apologise, sir, my memory seems to be faulty. I cannot remember your name." 

"That's Hux," Ani says. "Come _on_ , Threepio!"

"Master Hux," Threepio nods. "I will endeavour to remember, sir."

"You shouldn't," Hux says, leaning back on his hands. "Ani, we've talked about this. Nobody is supposed to know about me." 

"It's just Threepio," Ani says. "He's part of the family! He's not going to tell anyone about you."

"I am equipped with approximately eight hundred types of encryption, Master Hux," Threepio says. "I am programmed to maintain the highest levels of discretion. I will not share your name with any unauthorized individuals."

"See," Ani pats Threepio and there's a clang as something falls off. "Oops."

"I believe that was part of my coolant reservoir, sir," Threepio says.

"I'll have to shut you off until we get it back on," Ani says glumly. 

"I really would rath-" Threepio falls back onto the shelf as Ani hits his power button.

"I'm going to have to find another cooling unit," he complains. 

Hux crouches to pick up the bit that fell off. "Maybe not. We should be able to repair this. It looks like it was just a faulty weld."

"Really?" Ani peers at it. "That would be cool." 

"It can wait," Hux says. "I think your mom is calling for you."

"Calling for us," Ani says, grabbing Hux's hand again. "You're staying for dinner, right? Mom will want you to."

"I..." Ani tugs on his hand and Hux sighs. "All right. I'll stay."

"Yes!" Ani hauls him back out to the dining room. "Mom! Mom! Hux is coming to dinner!"


	2. No vision to surrender

Captain Panaka salutes as the first of the Viceroy's droids come rattling through the open door of the conference room. He cannot shake the instinctive revulsion; the damn things make him think of insects. He is careful to keep that revulsion off his face. He might not be privy to the intricacies of diplomacy but he knows enough to be impassive in the face of displeased officials.

"Perhaps, Viceroy," Governor Bibble says as he follows the awkward progress of the Viceroy's chair, "if you were to make more ...reasonable requests, it might be possible to negotiate."

"Perhaps your new Queen will be more amenable," the Viceroy tugs his robe around himself. "You are making a grave mistake, Governor."

"I am a servant to my people and my queen," Bibble bows slightly. "I can only do my duty."

"Perhaps you should think more clearly about how you can best serve your people." The Viceroy makes a dismissive gesture. "Until we meet again, Governor."

"I look forward to it," Governor Bibble bows more deeply. "Safe travels, Viceroy."

"You shouldn't," the voice from behind him says, echoing Panaka's thoughts. He looks around to see a slim man dressed in black leaning against one of the pillars. Panaka's hand goes for his blaster. The man lifts his hands, sardonic and Panaka lets his blaster slide back into its holster.

"I don't know you," he says.

"No." The man straightens up and Panaka has to fight the urge to reach for his blaster again. The man moves like a soldier.

"Are you with the Viceroy?"

"No." The man drops his hands. "They prefer droids in their armies. More cost-effective. Easier to control."

"Droid armies," Panaka snorts. "You've been watching too many holo-dramas."

"If you want to ignore the warning, fine," the man turns away. "It is your world in the balance, after all."

"Is that a threat?"

"No." The man looks over his shoulder. "It's a warning."

Captain Panaka looks down the corridors where the last of the politicians are disappearing and goes after him. The man pauses by a window. Captain Panaka looks around again. "If there was to be a droid army, what sort of preparations should be made? Hypothetically?"

The man slants a look at him. "Well, _hypothetically_ , one could start with making vital controls more organic-friendly..."

"Hold off from replacing the old switches, that sort of thing?"

The man's smile is sharp as a knife blade. "Exactly."

* * *

The planet is miserably hot and Qui-gon Jinn is deeply unsettled. He would have appreciated a chance to discuss the mission with his apprentice away from Nabooian ears but there is nothing he can say. The Force roils around him and he cannot spare the time to meditate.

Queen Amidala's handmaid is sharp-eyed and she spots the small settlement almost as soon as he does. Qui-gon has allowed her trifling deception but he is uneasy. There are many risks in bringing her to such a place, even if it is at her insistence.

He dares to wish for a sign.

Almost immediately, the Force grants it.

Ani is leading them to his home when the boy's running commentary cuts off. Qui-gon is reaching for his sabre when Ani runs towards a knock-down shack with a shout. The boy flings his arms fearlessly around black-clad legs, sure of his welcome. Qui-gon masks his shock as best he can.

"I made new friends!" Ani says and grabs for a gloved hand. "We’re going home until the storm’s over then I was going to show them the pod!"

"You have finished it then?" The cool tone makes Amidala narrow her eyes but Qui-gon is distracted by the softness in too-familiar pale eyes. He has never seen the man so approachable. The boy pulls the man into the light. The harsh suns of Tatooine brings out the green and silver flecks in his eyes and turns his hair to fire. Hux does not look surprised to see them.

"Master Jinn," he looks at Amidala and there is a brief, pointed pause, "Handmaid Padmé."

"Hux," the name seems too little. "I did not expect you here."

"A matter for your Force, Master Jinn," Hux says with a bitter twist to his mouth. "Have you spoken with Watto yet?"

"Yes," Qui-gon hesitates. "Do you have any advice?"

"He's immune to your...particular charm," Hux says. "Don't waste your time. He does like a wager, however."

He turns to Ani. "You should take them to your mother. I'll meet you by the pod after the storm."

Ani looks up at him with wide eyes. "You'll wait? You won't go away?"

"I will wait for you," Hux says and he smiles. Ani lets go of his hand and runs back to Qui-gon. Amidala lingers, looking back at the too-fair stranger. R2-D2 whistles and she looks around, hurrying to catch up.

"You said you did not know anyone here, Master Jinn." Her voice is just shy of accusing and Qui-gon spares her a glance.

"I did not expect to see Hux here," he admits. "His actions are always mysterious but he has always acted in the Force's interests."

"I do not understand," the queen says. "Is he a Jedi?"

"No," Qui-gon looks over his shoulder. "Just a friend."

* * *

"Boss! Boss! We'sa got all kinds of trouble!" The third messenger trips over his feet. Boss Nass hisses.

"I'm guessing you's got bad news," he grumbles.

"Lotsa them tin cans's poking around the edges," the messenger says. "We'sa havin' trouble but one o' them Naboo's helpin' us."

"A Naboo helpin' a Gungan?" Nass scowls down at them. "It'sa bein' them Jedi, huh?"

"No, Boss," Roos shakes his head. "They's not one of them Jedi."

"We'sa not trusting them," Nass says.

"Me and the boys grabbed 'im!" Roos says. "You want you should talk to him?"

"Bring him here," Boss Nass nods. "There's all sorts of strange tings happening. There's no Naboo anywhere they's supposed to be."

The other Bosses all grumble in agreement. Boss Nass is thinking that he's made a mistake, letting them Jedi go. There's been all kinds of trouble since he let them go. Roos brings the Naboo in front of them. They's dressed all funny for a Naboo; not so bright, not so many colours. No colours at all, really.

"You's spyin'?" Boss Nass demands.

"I am not," the Naboo is all indignant-like. "I intervened to save your people. If it offends you so much, I could stand back and let them be slaughtered."

"You'sa tryin' to help?" Boss Nass snorts. "Why's you wanting to help Gungans?"

The Naboo looks like him's got tadpoles in his pants and all sulky-like. He rolls his eyes. Pretty expressive for a Naboo who's only got such little eyes. "Because I don't want you wiped out? The Trade Federation don't even know you're people. They think you're animals."

"They's just like the Naboo then," one of the other Bosses says.

"No." The Naboo looks Nass right in the eye. "They think you need to be exterminated. Those droids are scouts. They're searching for your cities. When they find them, they will bring in more droids. As many droids as they need to wipe you out."

"We's not goin' die so easy," Nass says. "We Gungans fight really good."

"If you try to fight them in your cities, you will die." The Naboo is cold as ice and Nass goes quiet. "You can't just wait for them to come to you. This isn't just some droids. This is a war."

"We'sa knowin' all about war," Boss Nass says grimly. "We'sa got plans for that."

The Naboo hesitates, head tipped like he's listenin' to someting or thinkin'. "There are ...people coming. To help. They will find you."

"You'sa been swimmin' in the bad waters if you'sa thinkin' anybody's going to be helpin' us." Boss Nass shakes his head. "We'sa doin' it alone. Jus' like always."

"You can't beat this army alone," the Naboo says. "But together, you can win great victories."

"Hmph," Boss Nass sits back. Old Boss Shaff's looking at the Naboo with her squinty eyes. She looks at Nass and nods her head a couple of times. "We'sa thinkin' about it, maybe. You'sa talk nice for a Naboo. Maybe you'sa havin' a point, huh?"

"Just," the Naboo sighs, "don't let them catch you in the cities."

* * *

Hux does not linger although Qui-gon finds him, as promised, in the shaded alcove that holds Ani's pod-racer.

"You sweet-talked Watto then," Hux says after he's distracted Ani by pointing out a flaw in the coupling.

"Yes," Qui-gon glances at where Amidala is lingering in the doorway. "A heavy wager for such a young boy."

Hux exhales and his gaze shifts to Ani for an instant before he looks away. "For an order claiming compassion, you Jedi are actuarial about your mercies."

"I do not follow," Qui-gon releases his reflexive offense with his own exhale. He sees Amidala listening, eyes sharp.

"You'll free the boy because he is useful," Hux elaborates in a voice pitched to keep his words from Ani's ears while retaining all the venom he imbues the words with. "His mother gets to rot on this world as a slave until she dies. Because bearing the child is all the meaning her life has in your eyes."

Qui-gon stiffens. Hux's uncanny ability to read a situation is still disconcerting. It can only come from the Force but he has never received any such insight from the Living Force despite hours of meditation.

"All she has is her son," Hux says in a vicious hiss, "and you will take that from her because a powerful boy is more valuable to your Order than the happiness of a slave woman from Hutt space."

"He needs to be trained," Qui-gon says firmly. "He has visions. And great power."

"Don't patronize me," Hux snarls back. 

Qui-gon stares at him. He does not understand. He had heard the echo of Hux's words in Shmi's speech over dinner. It could only have been Hux who primed her so. He cannot believe the man would put so much work into a project that he clearly resents.

Unless...unless Hux doesn't have a choice.

The Force moves in mysterious ways. Qui-gon knows that truth in his bones after many years as a Jedi. Hux has always been driven by some purpose. He would have wagered more than just a ship that Hux felt no particular connection to any sentient but he's clearly affectionate towards Anakin and his mother. More surprisingly, the affection seems to be reciprocated.

"We can only do as the Force demands," he says and Hux's lip curls.

He turns away from Qui-gon then stops as if reminded of something. "Keep your 'sabre on your belt. There are more dangerous things on this world than a Hutt or an angry Dug."

"I will be careful," Qui-gon offers as Hux strides away. He sees Shmi look up and then follow Hux back into the settlement. Ani is too distracted by R2D2 to notice his friend's departure. He sees Amidala peering after him with a frown.

* * *

Obi-Wan paces back and forth, boots kicking up sand with every stride. He has excused himself from attending on the Queen while he waits for his Master to send him word on the results of the Pod-race. He can do nothing more with the ship without parts and he is starting to brood.

"You are going to burn," Hux's voice makes him jump. He straightens his robe with an unnecessary flourish as he turns.

"I did not expect to see you here," he says. 

Hux looks faintly amused. "Qui-gon didn't tell you I was here?"

"He did," Obi-Wan glances out over the sands. "I thought you'd be watching the podrace."

"I've seen Ani race before," Hux says and Obi-Wan blinks. His Master had said only that Hux was present. If Hux knows this boy, well, it explains his Master's fascination a bit better. "I don't need to see his last race."

"Last race?" A chill runs down Obi-Wan's spine. "The boy's going to lose?"

"No. The opposite in fact," Hux glances back towards the settlement and Obi-Wan can hear distant cheering. "He's going to win you your parts and your Master is going to win his freedom."

"Oh no," Obi-Wan sighs. "The boy is too old."

"According to your Order," Hux squints out over the dunes. "Not everyone would agree."

"If he is to be trained in the Force," Obi-Wan says slowly, "he needs to be-"

"-young enough to be molded?" Hux says. "Interesting that your oh-so venerable Order has no other way to handle a child's curiosity."

"You don't understand!" Obi-Wan says.

"I understand," Hux steps around him, scanning the dunes behind the ship. "I understand how the Jedi have failed to see any of this coming."

"Any of what?" Obi-Wan snaps.

Hux actually stops and turns to look at him. Obi-Wan is reminded of his Master's expression when he was a youngling prone to impulsive acts. His Master had perfected a resigned sort of disbelief that made Obi-Wan feel like a whining baby. 

"You don't actually believe the Trade Federation spontaneously grew a spine, do you?" Hux demands. "They're traders. They can haggle and bluster but a whole-scale invasion isn't their style. Why would they target Naboo? Why not one of the mining planets? They refuse to pay more than minimal taxes for military intervention but they'll buy a whole army of droids? They attempt to murder two ambassadors sent by the Chancellor. Two Jedi, who are guaranteed to be missed and who have an entire Order of Force-trained warriors who will avenge them. Does _any_ of this sound reasonable to you?"

"They are trying to dissuade the Senate from interfering," Obi-Wan says a little weakly. Hux just looks at him like he's a youngling talking about flying. "They're just short-sighted and greedy."

"Or they're being directed by someone else," Hux says. Obi-Wan stares at him. "You need to stop thinking of this as just one isolated incident. Naboo was not chosen by chance."

"It is rich in resources-" Obi-Wan starts, doubt starting to stir.

"In manufactured goods, services and arts." Hux corrects. "None of Naboo's industries will produce at anything like their current capabilities if the planet is occupied. The Trade Federation is going to loose a staggering amount of credits, regardless of how this war turns out. Does that really seem like something they want?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head, doubt now firmly established. "Who would want that?"

"Surely your oh-so-wise Order would know," Hux is looking over the dunes again. Something seems to catch his eye. Obi-Wan senses nothing through the Force but he catches a flash of movement. He turns and a blaster bolt flies over his shoulder. There's a bang and something dark and metal hits the sand. Obi-Wan goes for his lightsabre. Hux fires again and another disc of dark metal hits the sand.

"What on earth?" Obi-Wan snags the first with the Force, drawing it closer. It's a droid. Well, it _was_ a droid. Hux's shot has punched a hole clear through its chassis and its main memory. It's a very good shot, he notes under his shock. "What is this?"

"A scout," Hux says. His blaster is back in the holster on his hip and he is scanning the dunes again. "Two of them. You've been followed."

"That's not possible," Obi-Wan says. "I didn't let them respond to that transmission."

"That doesn't mean you haven't been followed," Hux is still staring at the dunes. "Best be prepared to leave in a hurry."

"You may be right," Obi-Wan considers the droid in his hand and tosses it away. A light touch of the Force drives it deep into the sands of a dune nearly half a click away. Hux blinks at him. "And if you are, those droids may have a homing beacon."

"Clever," Hux acknowledges with a half-smile. There is another distant roar and his expression blanks again. "Last lap. Your Master will be back soon."

"I have to start preparations," Obi-Wan hesitates. 

"I will keep watch for a little longer," Hux says, already turning back to the dunes. "Be ready to leave quickly."

"We shall," Obi-Wan nods to him as he hurries past.

* * *

"Go," Shmi tells her son and he goes, running to match his stride to the Jedi's. The crowds of race-goers, all merrily oblivious to anything but their own concerns, block her view almost immediately. She stands until she cannot see the back of the Jedi's head over the passers-by.

Only then does she let herself fall. C3PO tries to catch her but her legs will not support her. She cannot even scream, all her breath has been stolen by the lead weight in her chest. Her tears dry before they spill in the acrid air and Shmi wails low in her throat.

"Shmi," gentle hands catch her shoulders. She chokes on her grief, curling into herself. "You can't stay out here."

"Oh, Master Hux," C3PO is twittering over her head. "It really is the most awful thing."

"I know, Threepio." Shmi clutches her own arms, hunching over the pain burning in her chest. "Come on, Shmi. You need to get indoors."

She doesn't listen. She doesn't fight when she is picked up. She doesn't care what happens to her. She doesn't know what to do. There is the softness of her old blankets under her cheek and Shmi's tears finally come.

It is dark when she comes back to herself. Her eyes are raw, her cheeks sting and her throat burns every time she swallows. There is a blanket drawn over her and a damp rag sticking to her forehead. She can smell food and hear C3PO talking in the other room.

"Shmi?" Hux is standing in the doorway. She nods and he does not press her to speak. "You should eat."

She doesn't want to. She wants to stay in this bed, where she can pretend that her son is just in the other room. Slaves have no choice, she knows, but to take the world as it is. She nods and he withdraws without a word. She is grateful to have a few minutes to put herself to rights. She is grateful too for the way he and C3PO fill the chill of the evening with voices. 

Hux sets a plate before her and she nods her thanks. He has no plate but he takes the chair opposite her all the same, folding his gloved hands on the table. C3PO is talking about something that happened at the race. Shmi pays it no attention. She eats because she cannot waste food.

"Watto lost everything," she rasps.

"Not everything," Hux says, "just most of it."

She huffs. It is hard to think but she must. Watto was a lazy master, sometimes crude, sometimes kind. She has been lucky in him. If he is ruined, she will have a new master. There are few masters on Tatooine that are kind.

"He has some time," Hux says. "Others bet on Sebulba and lost more. There will be a lot of confusion. It might be months before anything is sorted out."

"I don't care for that Dug," C3PO says primly, "or his associates. Not that I expect we'll be seeing them again for some time."

"What?" Shmi looks from the droid to Hux. For the first time, she realizes that there are dots of red/green spattered along the underside of his jaw. "What happened?"

Hux silences C3PO with a look. "Nothing important. Some of Sebulba's cronies came looking for Ani. I dissuaded them."

Shmi's hands close in belated terror. Hux is avoiding her gaze and in the dim light, all she can see is the spatter on his chin. She can feel a distant sense of how she should be grateful that Ani is gone beyond the reach of Sebulba's thugs. She will feel grateful someday, perhaps. For now, all she can think is how much she wishes that he had never raced.

"They won't be back," Hux promises. Shmi smiles at him. He looks uncomfortable and she scrapes the last of her stew from her plate.

"The girl," she says suddenly. "Ani couldn't stop talking about her."

"Padmé, yes."

"He thinks that-" Shmi swallows. "He said he loved her."

Hux says nothing. He just looks down at his neatly folded hands.

"He's a child," Shmi says urgently. "He doesn't know what love like that means."

Hux looks up at her for a second then his lips curl and he looks back at the table.

"It," Hux clears his throat. "It happens like that sometimes. Love. I can't claim any particular expertise but sometimes. Sometimes love...isn't like the stories. Sometimes it's a brutal thing. Sometimes it destroys you."

There's a ringing silence before he unfolds his hands and pushes away from the table. "Padmé is a kind soul. A good person. She won't hurt him."

"Will the Jedi even let him love her?" Shmi asks bitterly. Hux looks away.

"They won't be able to stop him," his eyes are dark when he meets Shmi's gaze. "Love like that...it isn't something you reason with. You can work around it. Sometimes."

Shmi wants to argue but Hux is covered in the blood of people who wanted to hurt her son, probably her and she can't stand the darkness in his eyes. She reaches out and after a moment, he extends a hand. She holds on too tight. He doesn't flinch. 

"Stay." She looks at the polished leather of his glove and blinks stinging eyes again. "Tonight. Stay."

"I will." Hux promises.

"He'll need you." Shmi says gruffly. "Tomorrow and after that. He will be alone. He doesn't do well on his own. But tonight...stay."

"I will," Hux sits back down at the table. He doesn't make Shmi let go of him. He pours her another cup of tepid water. He listens when Shmi tells him half a hundred stories about Ani; most of which he was there for. He lets C3PO clean up around the kitchen and tut about the proper order of her dishes. He lets Shmi weep on his shoulder. He guides her to bed when exhaustion drowns her grief.

He is still there, still holding her hand when she wakes in the morning. He lets her embrace him before he makes breakfast and says nothing about the dampness she leaves on his uniform. He turns to her as the second sun rises.

"I have to go," he says, "but I will be back."

Shmi manages to smile at him. She believes him, she realizes with some surprise. When Hux vanishes in the soft golden light, Shmi believes that he will come back.

* * *

Ani makes it all the way out to the corridor before he starts to cry. He's all muddled up. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. He hates this planet. He hates all these people and he really, really hates how there's nowhere he can go to be alone. Everyone keeps looking at him!

"Ani?"

He throws himself at Hux before he can think better of it. Hux catches him easily and Ani wails into his shoulder. He can't say anything. Words won't come but Hux has never needed him to use words. He can feel the vibration of Hux talking and the familiar feel of his glove against Ani's back.

He can't hear what Hux is saying but he doesn't need to. Hux is there and Ani can cry. Hux won't tell him he's-he's wrong or wicked. 

When the awful weight in his chest eases enough that he can breathe without sobbing, Ani realizes Hux isn't talking anymore. He's humming. Ani recognizes the tune. His mom said that Hux used to hum it when Ani was just a baby and his mom had to work. She only ever left him with Hux. She had laughed when she told him that Hux had been so confused.

"He doesn't know how to be gentle," she'd told Ani. "But he tries. With you. With us."

The lullabye works. Ani can feel some of the bad feeling in his gut draining away. He leans back just enough to wipe at his eyes. He's all snotty and gross. He must look like a baby. Hux shifts enough to pull a black handkerchief from his coat and offer it to Ani.

"Feeling better?"

"No," Ani scrubs at his face. "They're all jerks!"

Hux half-smiles. "They are. Not all the Jedi are as open as Master Jinn."

"They hate me!" Ani bursts out. "They don't even know me but they hate me!"

"They don't hate you, Ani," Hux says. Ani glares up at him. "They're afraid of you. It's not the same thing."

"Master Yoda said it was," Ani sulks.

"Master Yoda is wise," Hux says slowly. "Fear becomes hate if you let it fester. Fear and hate are just emotions. You can't stop feeling them. You can choose not to let them control you."

"Easy for you to say," Ani wipes the last of the tears off his face.

Hux looks at him for a moment then he sets Ani down on his own two feet. "Come on. Let me show you something."

Ani grabs his hand and lets Hux lead him away, down the corridors and up more stairs than Ani ever imagined could exist in the world. JarJar shows up somewhere along the way and Hux leads them both to a balcony at the top of the Temple.

"Oh, wow!" Ani stares out over the city below them. There are lights and movements everywhere. It looks like a sandmite colony but so much bigger and brighter. JarJar whistles disbelievingly from beside him, saying something in his own language that Ani doesn't know.

"This is Courscant," Hux says. "The whole planet is one city. The heart of the Republic."

"Wow." Ani looks out at the lights. "I didn't know there were so many people in the universe!"

"I ain't seein' no stars," JarJar says doubtfully. "It stinks out here. Me'sa thinkin' that's too many people. Me'sa want to be goin' home."

"I want to go home," Ani says and rubs at his eyes. "Can't I just go home?"

"No," Hux says softly. "I'm sorry, Ani."

"Why not!?" Ani demands. "The stupid Jedi don't want me. Padmé is busy with the Queen and the Senate. Nobody wants me here!"

"I know," Hux looks out over the city. "I know it hurts, Ani."

"No, you don't!" Ani spits. "You never had to leave!"

"Yes, I did." Hux says. "My father..."

He stops and Ani looks up at him. He's never had a father but he knows that it's supposed to be a good thing. Hux doesn't look like it's a good thing.

"I was young," Hux says to the night sky. "Younger than you. My father took me away."

"Why?" Ani asks when Hux doesn't finish.

"He said it was my duty," Hux sighs. "That I needed to be trained. So I could help make the Galaxy a better place. A fair place where people didn't suffer."

"What about your mom?" Ani asks.

"I don't remember her," Hux says. He looks out over the city. "I was very young."

"Oh," Ani steps a little closer and reaches up to take Hux's hand. Hux lets him lean into his legs and Ani looks out over the city. "The Republic doesn't allow slavery, Padmé said."

"Yes," Hux says.

"But they let the Hutts have slaves," Ani says doubtfully.

"Because the Senate and the Jedi are too busy to do anything about it," Hux says.

"I could do something about it," Ani says slowly, "if I was a Jedi. A powerful Jedi."

"You could," Hux says. "The Jedi are afraid of change. They don't see the problems in the Galaxy anymore."

"I could make them see!" Ani stops. "If I was a Jedi. They'd have to listen to me then!"

Hux squeezes his hand and Ani nods to himself. JarJar looks at them.

"You'sa gonna be a great Jedi, Ani!" He nods hard enough to make his ears flap. "A great bomba-big Jedi!"

"Yeah," Ani nods. "I'm gonna be the greatest Jedi ever!"

* * *

"I would say I don't believe this," the voice comes from behind the Sith and all three of them jump, "but it would be a lie."

"Hu-" Qui-gon silences his padawan with a sharp gesture.

The Sith is trying to divide his attention between the Jedi in front of him and the slim officer standing behind him. Hux looks well, a trifle exasperated but his face is pale, the sunburn from Tatooine gone like it was never there.

The Sith makes his decision, throwing the Jedi back with an out-thrust hand and spinning in a whirl of red light to confront the new threat. Hux meets his eyes unflinchingly. His gloved hands are empty and Obi-Wan shouts a wordless warning as the Sith swipes his staff through the air.

Hux sways back and breaks the military precision of his stance.

"You are no Jedi," the Sith sounds puzzled.

"No," Hux agrees.

"Sith?" The light-staff spins through the air as Obi-wan and his Master scramble to their feet.

"What?" Hux's lip curls. "Afraid Sidious has already replaced you?"

The Sith's face contorts into a mask of rage and he lunges forward. His staff is moving so fast that it seems little more than interlocking arcs of solid red plasma. The Force boils with the Sith's rage and hatred and Obi-Wan feels his terror echo back from his Master.

But even as they regain the precarious safety of the walkway, the Sith howls his frustration. Hux is being driven back, ducking and weaving but the Sith cannot touch him. The Force swells up around them as again and again the Sith drives his weapon in a killing arc and again and again, Hux dodges.

"Fight me!" The Sith roars.

"Make me," Hux dares him.

Qui-gon is ahead of Obi-Wan, running with all the speed the Force can grant him and he makes it through the force-fields just ahead of his padawan. Hux has managed to get the last of the force-fields between him and the Sith. Obi-Wan can see him breathing deeply, pale eyes locked on the Sith who paces like a caged beast, staff whirling and spinning around his head. 

The fields will cycle. Obi-Wan can hear the hum of the electrical systems. He is too far back. The Sith is too close to both his Master and Hux. Obi-Wan breathes. He tries to find his centre.

"I will kill you," the Sith promises.

Hux's teeth gleam white. "Such melodrama. At least you're enough of a Sith for that."

"Slowly, painfully," the Sith hisses.

"I've faced better Sith than you before my morning kaf," Hux says and the doors cycle.

Obi-Wan dives forward; almost, almost and his boots skid as he pulls up just inside the last door. Qui-gon's 'sabre sparks as he attacks the Sith. Hux has flattened himself against the back wall, little more than a distraction in the face of the two duellists.

"There's a pit," Hux's voice lilts up.

Neither of the combatants even looks at him.

"Will you be careful!" Hux nearly shouts when the Sith lunges and Qui-gon is forced to draw on the Force to leap across the pit.

Obi-Wan wants him to be quiet. He can feel his Master in the Force and knows Qui-gon is tiring. The Sith is becoming more daring, pressing him harder. His Master is faltering, his blocks starting to lose their precision and his strikes taking on an edge of desperation.

"For kriff's sake," Hux lunges forward. Obi-Wan sees something flash in his left hand. The Sith screams, back arching. Qui-gon's lightsabre sweeps under the staff. Hux steps back. The Sith falls in two neatly bisected pieces. The doors cycle and Obi-Wan is running forward to steady his Master.

Hux adjusts his glove and takes a step forward to peer down the pit. When Obi-Wan looks, the redhead's hands are empty. When he looks again, Hux is gone.

* * *

The marble floor is cold and unyielding under his knees and Obi-Wan focuses on the distant sounds of celebration coming from the city beyond the windows. Master Windu is standing at the foot of the bed that contains Obi-Wan's unconscious Master. Master Yoda is seated by Qui-gon's head, hand extended to manipulate the intricate web of Force that is healing his Master.

"He will live," Master Windu says at last, "but he will be recovering from this for a long time. He cannot hope to train a padawan."

Obi-Wan straightens, mouth open to protest but Master Yoda speaks first.

"Agree, I do," he lowers his hand and looks at Master Windu. "But agree do you, that faced his trials Obi-Wan has?"

"A duel with a Sith is not precisely what the Code prescribes," Master Windu starts. Master Yoda tilts his head and Master Windu sighs. "But yes, I agree that Kenobi deserves to become a Knight."

"Obi-Wan to teach the boy, Qui-gon proposes," Master Yoda says mildly. He pats Qui-gon's arm and leaps to the floor.

"That seems ...unwise." Master Windu spares Obi-Wan a glance. "If the boy were even eligible for training, he would need an experienced Master to overcome his issues. Not a Knight barely out of training."

"Agree with you, the Council does," Master Yoda paces along the floor, cane tapping away. "Disagree do you, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan looks at the bed and swallows. "The boy must be trained. I gave Master Qui-gon my word that he would be."

"Seen this, I have," Master Yoda comes to a stop in front of him. "Seen the boy as your padawan, I have also."

Obi-Wan's heart leaps and Master Windu frowns. Master Yoda closes his eyes, tipping his head as if listening to the Force.

"Agree that the Chosen One he is, I do not! But agree that he must be trained, I do. A Sith, you defeated. A Sith in truth. Dead, he is but always two there are."

"The boy would make a highly desirable apprentice to a Sith. A child of his power, corrupted by the Dark Side? That could be catastrophic." Master Windu exhales, frowning at Master Yoda. "I take your point and I agree. Reluctantly but I agree that it is better that he learns from us."

"Foresee this, we did not," Master Yoda turns back to Qui-gon's bed. "Very fortunate you are to have survived."

Obi-Wan thinks of Hux, weaving and dodging the Sith's fury and the flash of a narrow blade before the Sith fell. He opens his mouth but Hux's name sticks in his throat. He cannot make his voice work. "We had help."

"With you always the Force is," Master Yoda smiles benevolently at him. "Trust in your teaching you did not, hmm?"

"Well," Obi-Wan struggles in vain for several endless seconds. Something will not allow him to speak of Hux to the Masters. It does not feel like a compulsion as such; certainly he senses no malice. He will have to meditate on it and seek Qui-gon's counsel once his Master is awake. "It was unsettling to encounter a being so powerful in the Dark Side."

"The Sith have not been seen for centuries," Master Windu says. "You did very well."

Obi-Wan bites his tongue to keep from reminding Master Windu that Qui-gon had warned them about the Sith before they returned to Naboo. Master Windu is already turning to Master Yoda.

"The Council must discuss the matter further. We need to find where the other Sith is hiding and quickly before they can recruit another apprentice."

"Speak with them now, we will," Master Yoda agrees. He turns to Obi-Wan. "Know where your new padawan is, do you?"

"The Queen's attendants have taken him for dinner." Obi-Wan rises stiffly to his feet. "And to clean him up. I thought it would be better if he didn't see Master Qui-gon in this state."

"See great fear in him, I do," Master Yoda nods to himself before he looks up at Obi-Wan. "A great capacity for love, I see as well. Forbid him from seeing Qui-gon, you should not."

"I won't," Obi-Wan promises. He feels guilty. He honestly hasn't thought much of Ani or his needs since Qui-gon had fallen, barely two metres into the space-port. Obi-Wan had barely been able to sense the Force wounds much less treat them. He had panicked, more than thought and when Queen Amidala suggested taking Ani, he had been grateful. He will have to be more diligent in future. "We have been invited to take part in the formal celebrations."

"That won't be a problem." Master Windu says. "There should be official word from the Senate."

"A strong Chancellor, Senator Palpatine will be," Master Yoda turns to the door. "A friend to the Jedi, as well."

Obi-Wan waits until the two Masters have left before he crosses to the bed. Qui-gon is breathing evenly but when Obi-Wan dares to reach for his mind, he finds a turbulent mess of emotion and flickering memories. Hux features heavily and Obi-Wan frowns. His Master's memories of the young man stretch back for years but Hux never seems younger or older.

He settles into the chair beside his Master's bed and closes his eyes. He feels like he's a youngling again, just starting to truly sense the Force but still a long way from understanding it. He feels like a child in the dark, bargaining with his own fears to survive.

The cheering echoes through halls and Obi-Wan shivers despite the warm evening sun. He draws his robe tighter around himself and resolves that he will ask Qui-gon about it when he wakes.


	3. Wasted on Regretting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Canonical Character Death
> 
> See notes at the end for details

_He's running down a corridor, lights flickering overhead. The floor is slick and sticky in places, his feet leaving red marks as he runs. The air is thin and crackles with something that isn't true electricity._

_Everywhere he looks, there are bodies. Master Jinn. Obi-Wan. He thinks he sees his mother in a tangle of limp bodies, then again around a corner. Padme stares blindly up, tears in her eyes and blood on her lips. Threepio buzzes and shudders against the floor, photo-receptors dull._

_He turns a corner and there are shadowy figures. He sees Hux's hair and runs for him. There's a flash of red and Hux flies backwards, colours going dim. He screams but the air is thick and drags at him._

_Behind him, there are footsteps. He doesn't want to turn but he does. The figure standing there in ragged black robes and a mask has a lightsabre that spits and sputters like an ill-tuned engine._

_"For you," it says, voice buzzing and artificial. "It's all for you, Grandfather."_

Anakin wakes choking on his own scream. The dormitory is dark and silent. The other padawans are sleeping. He squeezes his eyes shut against stinging tears and a hand settles against his back. He turns into the warm shape beside him and muffles his wail against Hux's black coat.

"It's okay, Ani," Hux says softly. "It's just a dream."

Ani cries until his eyes are raw and he can barely keep them open. Hux's hand rubs up and down his back and he hums as Ani fights off a yawn. He recognizes the song. Hux used to hum it all the time when they were still at home. If Ani closes his eyes and hides his face against the stiff fabric of Hux's coat, he can pretend that he's at home. His mom will be calling them to breakfast and everything is alright.

"It's just a dream," Hux says and Ani falls asleep.

* * *

This, Qui-gon thinks, is going to be a problem. He lets go of the spanner and something else in the depths of the engine falls off. He sighs. He will have to comm for assistance once the solar disturbance in the atmosphere passes. It will only be a few more hours. He can do nothing else for the moment.

He sighs again, settling himself in the shade of his ship. Meditation, as Master Yoda would say, never wasted is. He closes his eyes and breathes deep.

"Does all this meditation actually achieve anything or is it just glorified laziness?"

"Hux!" Qui-gon's eyes snap open. Hux is a dark shape against the blazing sunlight. "It is good to see you, my friend."

"You aren't answering my question," Hux says, side-stepping the sentiment with a roll of his shoulders.

"Meditation is about focus," Qui-gon rises to his feet a little stiffly. "Learning to sense the guidance of the Force without external distractions. When the path ahead is unclear, it is always best to attune oneself to the Force.

"Hmm," Hux studies him for a moment. "Are you ill?"

"No?" Qui-gon is confused for a moment before he realizes what must have drawn those sharp eyes. "Merely healing, my friend."

"Still?" Hux asks doubtfully.

"It has only been a year and a half." That draws a flicker of genuine surprise, Hux's eyes flicking to his face then away. "And I am an old man. Too old to be fighting a Sith warrior in his prime."

"You did well enough," Hux says dismissively. "You're hardly an old man."

"I feel old," Qui-gon confesses, propping his weight against the side of his ship so he can look at Hux without being blinded by the sun. "I haven't the heart for diplomacy these days. Even if the Council would wish otherwise."

"Ah," Hux does not sound surprised. "Count Dooku's shown himself then."

"He was my Master for a short time," Qui-gon admits. "Before he fought with the Council and chose to leave the Order. He kept in touch for a time before our paths diverged too much. I never expected him to ally with the Trade Federation, or the Separatists as they call themselves now."

"Never?"

Qui-gon pauses. Hux's tone is carefully neutral. He suppresses his reflexive response and takes a moment to clarify his thoughts before he responds. "Well, perhaps not _never_. I am surprised that he chose to ally with the Trade Federation against the Jedi. His support grants them considerable prestige and lowers his standing in the eyes of the Jedi."

"You really think he's just supporting them?" Hux tips his head and Qui-gon frowns.

"He's being very vocal about it," Qui-gon says. "His name is on every demand and proclamation. What would you call it if not support?"

"Control." Hux turns away, peering in at the engine. His shoulders are tense. Puzzled, Qui-gon follows him around the curve of the ship.

"I don't follow," he admits when it becomes apparent that Hux does not intend to elaborate. Hux hunkers down by the engine, reaching out to collect the fallen components. He turns them over in his hands for a minute before he sighs and looks up at Qui-gon.

"The Trade Federation's Viceroys and officials are notoriously susceptible to mind-control." Hux continues before Qui-gon can protest. "It's one of the worst kept secrets of the Jedi's so-called diplomacy. It's why Valorum was willing to risk sending two 'unofficial' ambassadors to Naboo and why the Queen expected the negotiations to be short and conclusive. The Count was once one of the most skilled manipulators in your Order's entire history."

Hux sits back on his heels, raising an eyebrow at Qui-gon. "Is it really so strange to assume that those two facts are related?"

"Using the Force like that would be abomination. Dooku would nev-" Qui-gon bites back the rest of his denial. His confidence falters under Hux's flat stare. He looks away, breathing out, and tries to centre himself. He must consider the facts objectively.

The Trade Federation's natural susceptibility to Force-enhanced suggestions is known, even if it is not as effective as Hux seems to believe. It is why they have always favoured droids. That is simply fact, even if it is unsettling that Hux should know. The Council have never publicized that knowledge, so that the Trade Federation would not be vulnerable to Force-sensitive criminals.

Dooku had been his Master for less than two years. Qui-gon had been too young to participate in his fiery debates with the Council. Most of the arguments had been too esoteric for a boy to understand but he did remember Master Yoda, bent as under a great sorrow and moving like he felt every one of his many years, coming to speak with him. He had taken him out of the nursery and deep into the wild garden where the Living Force was as strong as it could be on such an urban planet.

"Important it is," he had said during the hours they had spent in the garden, "to respect the differences of all living things. Children of the Force, are we all. Great power is granted to Jedi. Great wisdom must we have when use the Force we do."

Qui-gon had agreed then. He agrees now. Using the Force to persuade or perplex another being is a delicate matter that can easily lead to the Dark Side.

He opens his eyes with a sigh. "You may be right. My memories are of the Knight, not the Count."

Hux looks down at the components in his hands. He seems a little off-balance, as if he'd expected more of a fight. Qui-gon is not completely convinced but he is willing to trust Hux's warning, as elliptical as it was.

"I will remind the Council of his ...particular skills," Qui-gon says. "It would be a grave risk to send ambassadors without Jedi to protect them."

Hux nods and looks back at the engine. "Assuming you make it back to the Council some time this century. Do you even have tools?"

"I have plenty of tools," Qui-gon defends himself before he concedes. "What I lack is the expertise to properly use them."

"You're alone on an uninhabited planet, parsecs from the nearest trading route, in a ship you can't maintain or repair, without even an astromech for assistance?" Hux rolls his eyes. "Are all Jedi this reckless? How are you not all dead a hundred times over?"

Qui-gon elects to fetch the tools rather than attempt to argue. Hux continues to mutter to himself about foolish Jedi and incompetent technicians. Qui-gon hands him the tools when required. He will have to thank Obi-Wan for at least teaching him the correct names for the tools.

It takes about an hour before Hux tightens the last coupling and straightens up. Qui-gon sets the tools back in their proper place and offers Hux some water. They lean against the ship, watching as the first sun sets and Qui-gon finds he is reluctant to leave. Hux is pink from the sun, lips chapped and his hair threaded with gold.

He wants answers but he is almost certain that questioning Hux would be futile. The Force has brought Hux here and now and he will meditate further. It is genuinely good to see him. He had feared Hux gone after the fight against the Sith. He is certain that without Hux's timely intervention he and Obi-Wan would have fallen to the Sith's blades. It feels greedy to press for more.

"You should get going," Hux says eventually.

"You are right," Qui-gon claps a hand on his shoulder. "Since I am fortunate enough to have a fully functional ship again."

"Get them to assign you a droid next time," Hux says. He frowns as Qui-gon eases himself into the pilot's seat. "Don't forget to warn them."

"I will warn them," Qui-gon promises. "Until we meet again."

The hatch slides into place and the nav-com confirms his route with a chirrup. Hux steps back as the ship lifts and Qui-gon loses sight of him in the dust. He checks to confirm the route back to Coruscant is as quick as possible. Hux's words echo in his mind and Qui-gon feels his worry echo and amplify through the Force. He must speak with the Council.

* * *

It is almost cool in the quiet hours before the suns rise and Shmi is sorting through scrap. Hux arrives as the last of the night starts to fade, bringing her the last part of C3PO's salvaged shell and settling in beside her. Watto works her hard these days, scraping every credit he can find to cover his debts. Shmi looks up when Hux comes through the door and her smile might be tired but it is real.

He has been a comfort to her since Ani left. He visits more frequently, brings little snippets of Ani's new life so she can know her son is well. She still misses her boy with all of her aching heart but it is enough to know that he is well and free.

"I'm going to have to weld that join," Hux says, frowning at the new knee joint. "Come on, Threepio."

"There is some solder on the bench," Shmi tells him. Hux flashes her a small smile.

"Oh dear, must you?" C3PO falls in behind Hux. "I don't care for welding. My circuits are very delicate, you know."

"I know," Hux says. "I'll be careful but you need your shell or you'll keep getting sand in your circuits."

Threepio shuffles after him and Shmi hears the hiss-sputter of the welding torch a moment later. She shakes her head with a smile and turns back to the scrap in front of her. She is humming, working to loosen a lug nut with a snapped edge. The sniffle is almost too soft to hear but she still has a mother's ear.

The boy is a stranger to her. He's a small thing, huddled against the door of the hut across the road. He's pawing at his eyes and his lower lip wobbles as he peers around. Shmi sets her work aside and rises to her feet. The boy doesn't notice her until she's standing over him and he startles.

"It's all right," she says, holding out her empty hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy gulps and fresh tears spill down his cheeks. Shmi pulls a clean rag from her pocket and holds it out.

"It's all right," she says again. "You're not from around here, are you?"

He shakes his head and she looks around. The worst of the settlement's crooks will still be asleep. There are some folk up from Mos Eisley, travelling before the heat sets in. Tatooine is harsh on circuits and gears. Everything breaks and must be repaired.

"My name is Shmi," she says. "Do you want to wait with me for a bit?"

"...my dad," the boy says. That's the only part she can understand. He can't be more than a year younger than Ani. She holds out her hand and he takes it. She brings him back over to her pile of scrap. She offers him a drink from the bottle she keeps under the table. He sips eagerly and wipes his eyes with the rag. Shmi starts to talk to him. It's all nonsense, descriptions of the parts in front of her and what she's doing. It's what she used to do for Anakin when he was still a babe.

Watto comes by once. He blinks at the boy and swoops in for a better look. "Who's this, huh? You steal me another slave?"

"No." Shmi says.

"Could be very valuable, maybe..." Watto might be joking but the boy's eyes are wide and Shmi can feel the shiver of fear that runs through him. She wraps an arm around him and draws him back.

"Hux!"

He comes at once, a shadow in the door, welding torch in one hand and the other resting near his blaster. "Shmi?"

"A joke!" Watto backs up sharply. "You can't take a joke?"

Hux glances at her and his eyes are ice when he looks back at Watto. Her owner sputters for a few seconds before he gives up and bolts for the shop. Hux watches him go and turns back only when Watto has ducked back inside. He blinks at the boy. "A new friend?"

"Yes," Shmi smiles. "He hasn't told me his name, I'm afraid-"

"Owen," the boy says. "Owen Lars."

She almost misses the way Hux's eyes widen a fraction as she smiles at Owen. He rocks back on his heels. His voice is a little rougher when he says "I'm nearly done with Threepio's welding. It shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

"That's Hux," she tells Owen who is still wide-eyed. "He's a friend of my son's."

Owen nods and Shmi turns back to her work. She tells him about the different types of bolt and circuits and answers his hesitant questions. No-one troubles them for the next quarter of an hour. She is just starting to think that she will have to send Hux to look for Owen's father after breakfast when she hears the sound of running feet from further down the street.

"OWEN? OWEN?" A man comes around the corner, tripping over his own feet as he looks around.

"DAD!" Owen waves and the man sprints over to them. He sweeps his son up into his arms, breathing heavily. Owen is babbling away even as his father catches his breath. Shmi watches with a twinge of grief in her heart. She is irresistibly reminded of Anakin going on adventures. Owen's father must not have a friend willing to shadow his son whenever he roams.

"This is Shmi," Owen says with a gap-toothed smile. "She's been teaching me how to service a condenser!"

"A very valuable skill," his father says. He looks up and blinks at her. He is a handsome man, Shmi notices, with kind creases around his mouth and eyes. He is a free man, no sign of a slave collar or brand. "My thanks to you, Mistress Shmi."

"I enjoyed his company," Shmi says. "I have- _had_ a son about his age."

Owen's father sets his son down and holds out a hand. "I'm Cliegg, Cliegg Lars. I have a moisture farm out beyond Mos Eisley."

"Shmi Skywalker," she shakes his hand. His skin is dry and rough but his grip is gentle. "My master owns the scrap shop here."

Cliegg's hand lingers in hers. Shmi's lips turn up and she sees an answering smile spread across his face.

* * *

"Congratulations, Senator!" Padmé smiles and bows her head to Representative Stropakam. She keeps smiling as she picks her way through the room. It's only when the door is closed behind her that she sighs and lets the brittle smile slide off her face.

"Congratulations," the voice from the balcony makes her jump. She has to blink twice before she can convince herself that she's not seeing things. Hux is leaning against the balustrade of the balcony, looking out over the lakes. "Senator Amidala."

"Hux," she gathers herself and crosses the room to join him. "I was not expecting you."

"My apologies," he half-bows.

"No apologies needed," she says. "I was sorry not to see you after..."

"Your victory?" Hux straightens easily. "I was called away."

Padmé considers him. He doesn't look any different today than he does in her memories. She props a hip against the balustrade and follows his gaze out to the lakes. Hux doesn't break the silence and she feels a little of the tension of the day ease from her shoulders.

"I am curious," she says at last. "Master Jinn says that you are not a Jedi-"

"I am not."

"-you aren't one of the Hutts' bounty hunters and you turn up in places that you shouldn't be." Padmé can see the tension in his shoulders. "Who are you?"

"Armitage Hux," he says, clasping hands behind his back.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

There is a long pause before Hux sighs. "Damage limitation, Senator. The Invasion of Naboo was not an isolated incident. The Galaxy is falling into Darkness."

"Why?"

"I can't say," Hux says wearily. "I've tried a thousand times but the Jedi can't hear me, no-one hears me when I try to warn them. Some things, well, it seems that some things are unchangeable."

"Why are _you_ doing this?" Padmé asks.

Another pause. Hux tips his head to peer down at her. "You are a very intelligent woman, Senator Amidala. Ask me again if you don't figure it out over the next few years."

Padmé wants to press but he's too guarded. Pushing the matter will only make him withdraw and, in the privacy of her own thoughts, she doesn't want him to leave. He is Anakin's friend and she finds an odd comfort in that.

"Can I offer you refreshments?"

Hux looks startled for a second before his expression smoothes out again. He inclines his head. He takes a citric tea and they stand on the balcony together. He doesn't talk but he listens well, offering the occasional dry comment. He does not rush to offer advice or correction. He speaks to her as if she is a competent adult who knows her business.

It is refreshing.

When the night begins to fall and the light fades, she sets aside her cup and turns to look at him. "I would like to ask a question of you."

"You are free to ask," Hux says. "I might not be free to answer."

"I think I will risk it," she says and smiles. "Why are you here? On Naboo?"

Hux sets his cup down. "You are having doubts. Your reign as queen has left you doubting your abilities. Politics on the Galactic scale are very different from planetary concerns. You're smart enough to know that."

"Thank you," Padmé says.

"Your voice and your courage will be needed in the Senate," Hux says. "You need to trust in your own judgement and your own conscience. You are a remarkable woman, Senator. Don't let anyone else make you doubt that."

"I won't," Padmé promises and Hux offers a half-bow.

"Congratulations again, Senator, and the very best of luck in your new career."

He leaves her on the balcony with two empty cups and a lot to think about.

* * *

Shmi does not have anything pretty or delicate to wear. She has never owned anything that was not truly her Master's. Tidhe Bagle, who is owned by the Hutt, gifts her with some old dresses from her Mistress' discarded goods. They are plain and need to be repaired.

Hux lends a hand, turning his hand to sewing as easily as if he'd been trained to it. Her friends all know him and they tease him gently. They don't fear him as much as the rest of the settlement does. Hux stays silent for the most part but he does smile more than he normally does.

It is only when they are folding up her new finery that Hux actually speaks.

"Cliegg asked me for my blessing," he says, sounding bemused.

Shmi laughs. "I am hardly a maiden and I don't have any marriage portion."

"He knows," Hux gathers up her dresses. "He said that he wanted to do it properly and that he wanted me to know that he held you in very high esteem."

Shmi feels her cheeks heat a little and she busies her fingers with fastening the catches of her bags.

"He promised to love and cherish you," Hux says, almost teasing in his turn but mostly sincere. "And that you would always have a home with him."

"He's a good man."

"He said," Hux hesitates. "He said that Ani would always be welcome if he needed a home or just to visit."

Shmi blinks and feels a tear trail down her cheek. She is still smiling. She had never known before that joy and sorrow could live together in one heart.

"He is a good man," Hux says as C3PO comes in from the workshop with a bag of tools and parts.

"I have gathered all of our belongings," C3PO says.

"Good," Hux nods to the door. "Put them on the speeder, Threepio. I'll bring the rest of the bags."

Shmi lets them go ahead of her. She looks around the hut. There is nothing left here but memories. She rests a hand on the table and thinks of her son. Anakin is out in the Galaxy, living a life she cannot even imagine. She hopes that he thinks of her sometimes and that he would understand why she is leaving this place that had been their home.

She lifts her hand and goes outside. Hux and Owen are loading the speeder with the last of the bags while C3PO talks to the R4 unit that maintains the engine. Cliegg is waiting. He has shaved the scruff from his face and his hair is neatly combed. His clothes are clean and he brightens visibly when he sees her.

"Shmi!" He hurries over and stops in front of her. He fumbles for something small and shiny. A flower made of scrap metal and glass. It's beautiful.

"Thank you," she says and kisses him. He takes her hand with something like wonder on his face.

"We need to hurry," Owen interrupts. "We're late!"

Shmi smiles at him. He's a good boy. Hux comes to stand beside him and they hurry across the settlement. Only a few people come as far as the Factor's speeder. The Twi'lek reads the documents, counts the credits twice and stamps the statement of manumission and the marriage licence one after the other.

"Long life and profit," he says. "Next!"

Shmi manages a quick thank you before she and Cliegg stumble back outside. Her few friends are there to wish them well. That night, they drink and laugh around the fires. Cliegg holds her hand and almost never looks away from her. Shmi laughs and for the first time since Ani left, she feels happy.

She doesn't realize Hux is gone until the next morning.

* * *

"Master!" Qui-gon turns in response to Obi-Wan's call. His serious expression brightens to a smile. Obi-Wan hurries to catch up with his Master.

"It is good to see you, Obi-Wan."

"And you, Master," Obi-Wan tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robe, falling into step with his Master. "I had not heard that you were back on Coruscant."

"I arrived only an hour ago," Qui-gon sighs. "The Council wanted my report immediately."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan glances at his Master, curiosity piqued. He misses the days when he knew everything that his Master was doing. "Do you have time to eat?"

"I could do with a meal," Qui-gon smiles at him. "Young Plo Koon is a more vigourous Jedi than I."

"Master Koon is hardly young," Obi-Wan teases, smiling back at his Master. "I didn't know he had accompanied you."

"Because he didn't," Qui-gon sighs again. "His mission was compromised. He had some difficulties and I was close enough to assist."

"What sort of difficulties?" Obi-Wan asks as they order from the commissary droids. His Master hesitates, glancing around the mostly empty dining area.

"We'll eat over by the windows, if you don't mind?" He leads Obi-Wan to an empty table by one of the big windows. Obi-Wan obligingly lifts their trays over with a gentle use of the Force. Qui-gon keeps his silence for a few minutes before he starts speaking.

"My mission was something of a success." Obi-Wan hums, unsurprised. His Master is one of the finest diplomats and intelligence officers the Council can call upon. This has been true since before he took Obi-Wan as his padawan. Qui-gon looks out the window. "I say 'something' because I cannot shake the feeling that there was more to the mission than I discovered. The threats against the Lady Sovereign were genuine. Blackmail and worse. It was a tricky matter to resolve and I confess I was not entirely happy with the motivations that I managed to uncover. I left two days before I had planned to so I could send a message from the nearest planet. I had intended to follow it back to Coruscant immediately but..."

"But?" Obi-Wan prompts.

"I was intercepted by a..n old friend," Obi-Wan feels the brush of his Master's mind. He is not entirely surprised to catch an image of Hux, standing in the shadow of his Master's ship. "They were insistent that Master Koon was in grave danger."

"They were correct, I take it?" Obi-Wan asks rhetorically.

"Yes," Qui-gon takes a bite of his meal. "We might both have been lost if our old friend had not stayed to intervene."

Obi-Wan stares at his Master, fork forgotten in his hand. The mental images that accompany his Master's words are of blaster fire and two of the roughly dressed attackers being yanked into the shadows. "That hardly seems in-character for them?"

"They have intervened before," Qui-gon says dryly. _Against the Sith for one._

"It's hardly a habit of theirs," Obi-Wan says aloud. _That is not what I'd call a comforting precedent, Master._

"They have always been a good friend," Qui-gon says. "Master Koon certainly found their company congenial."

 _He showed himself to Master Koon?_ Obi-Wan stares at his Master.

"They talked for some time about depressurization fail-safes," Qui-gon says mildly, sipping from his tea. _Master Koon noticed nothing untoward about him. He was mostly occupied with Master Koon's foundling. She was understandably frightened._

 _And you gave her to **Hux** to soothe?_ Obi-Wan finishes his mouthful of food. "I am surprised. They can be, well, rather brusque."

"They were perfectly courteous," Qui-gon sets his cup down. _I was not concerned. He does well enough with Anakin._

Obi-Wan says nothing, feeling a stab of guilt. His Master pauses and Obi-Wan reaches for his own cup. He takes a slightly larger mouthful than he intends and has to clear his throat. He feels his Master's wordless query and looks down at his tray.

"Obi-Wan?" His Master sets his fork down. "What has happened?"

"The Council was quite adamant, Master," Obi-Wan says without looking up, "that Ani should be trained properly. They didn't want him to be subject to 'undue influences'."

 _That **is** why they wouldn't let us stay with you,_ he reminds his Master as he takes another sip of tea, _and why they keep sending you away._

"The Council never intended you to be cut adrift, Obi-Wan," Qui-gon says. _They are sending me away because the Chancellor keeps requesting my presence on missions and with the Seperatist Movement gaining strength, they want to support Palpatine. I am never more than a comm away and you have always been free to contact me. I will always answer, Obi-Wan._

His Master's assurance and the deep feeling of pride underlying his thoughts makes shame squirm in Obi-Wan's stomach. He had been so confident in his decision at the time, feeling every nanometre the wise and proper Jedi Master. Especially after Master Windu's lecture on the importance of severing attachments.

"What has happened, Obi-Wan?" His Master is studying his face, starting to frown.

"Your argument must be more compelling over time," Obi-Wan says. It is both a weak deflection and the root of the issue. "The Council's stance on the prophecy is shifting. Has already shifted dramatically. You would win your argument if you brought it before them today, I think."

"The Council is too concerned with the future," Qui-gon sighs. "It is important to remain attentive to the Living Force and keep your focus in the current moment."

He catches Obi-Wan's eye. _And you are avoiding the question, my friend._

Obi-Wan looks out the window without really registering anything outside.

"The Council have been supervising my teaching very closely, Master." He can't even complain. He's not the quite the youngest Master in Jedi history but he is the most inexperienced Master in living memory. His inadequacies have become glaringly apparent over the last few months. "They want to ensure that Anakin is properly trained."

"A laudable aim," Qui-gon says. Privately, he adds. _A padawan's Master should always be the final authority. You are a good man, Obi-Wan, and a great Jedi Knight. I have full confidence in your judgment._

His Master's sincerity turns what would be an empty platitude from any other Master into the highest praise from his own Master. It makes the shame in his gut tie itself into knots. Obi-Wan sinks a little lower in his seat.

"Master Windu was concerned that Ani had too many attachments from his past, before the Temple," Obi-Wan says to his half-eaten plate. _Hux was visiting him too frequently. Ani wasn't making any friends with his age-mates. It was stunting his development._

Qui-gon's spoon clatters on his tray. Obi-Wan risks a glance up and his Master's expression is horrified. The shame in his gut crawls up his spine. His Master stares at him.

"I am struggling to see how that would not make matters much worse," Qui-gon says at last. _Did you tell Ani what you were doing?_

 _He overheard,_ Obi-Wan admits after another uncomfortable pause. _Hux ...argued. I was not-not as disciplined or respectful in my replies as I should have been._

Hux has always been able to get right under Obi-Wan's skin. He doesn't even need to say anything to leave Obi-Wan feeling snappish and grumpy.

 _How long ago was this?_ Qui-gon asks as he pushes his tray aside.

 _...three years or so?_ Obi-Wan thinks reluctantly. He tries not to think about it and it's a little surprising to realize how much time has passed. With his Master sitting across the table from him, Obi-Wan can't help but notice the details that he hadn't registered at the time.

_Hux's face, drawn into sharp, sneering lines. The squeak of leather and his hands closed tightly into fists. The way the Force folded around him, shadowed and uneasy. The way Hux had flinched when Obi-Wan called him 'no better than a droid but less useful'. Ani's face when he had switched on the light. Ani's face when Hux vanished as mysteriously as he always did._

"Oh, Obi-Wan," Qui-gon sighs. Obi-Wan can't even look at his Master's face. In the bright light of the dining room, he feels like an utter fool. Qui-gon reaches out to touch his shoulder. "You did what you thought was best, my friend."

"I don't think it was the best way to handle it, in retrospect," Obi-Wan admits. _Truthfully, I didn't think he'd listen to me. I thought, at best, he would be more circumspect but he hasn't returned to the Temple at all since. At least, as far as I can tell._

"Failure is the best teacher, Master Yoda maintains," Qui-gon says ruefully. _Not that that is very comforting, I know. I am not surprised. He is a proud man. I had no idea that you were having trouble with him._

 _No idea?_ Obi-Wan frowns. He had half-expected Hux to go running directly to Qui-gon.

 _Indeed,_ Qui-gon says. _And I have seen him a great many times over the last few years. He has never mentioned the fight or any difficulties._

Obi-Wan feels worse. He feels like a sulky juvenile complaining about being ignored by a peer. Qui-gon squeezes his shoulder. Obi-Wan has allowed Ani to just not mention Hux and ignored his padawan's occasional bouts of sulking. He tips his face into his hands and groans.

"It will be fine, Obi-Wan," Qui-gon assures him.

"I was a fool," Obi-Wan says bitterly. "Ani has been upset for months and unwilling to confide in me."

 _I doubt that Hux will show himself to me again, Master,_ he adds privately. _Could you pass on my apology when you see him next?_

"Learning from your mistakes is an important part of learning to be a Jedi," Qui-gon says, radiating quiet pride. "It is a part of our training that we never truly finish. You are honest with yourself and that is the path to greater wisdom."

 _I will tell him,_ Qui-gon adds. _Though I cannot be sure when our paths will cross again._

Obi-Wan swallows his immediate dissatisfaction. It is unfair to feel wronged when he is the one who sent the man away. He pushes the remains of his meal away. "Do you have another mission now or do you have some time to spare?"

"I haven't been given a new mission yet," Qui-gon smiles. "I can always spare some time for you, Obi-Wan."

"Would you like to join us for this afternoon's 'sabre lessons?" Obi-Wan offers. "Ani would be delighted to see you. He's missed you."

"And I have missed him," Qui-gon's smile deepens. "I would be honoured to join you and your padawan, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan sends their trays gliding over to the waste-unit as he rises to his feet. His Master stands to follow him and their conversation turns easily to discussions of kata and proper form. When Ani comes out of his morning lessons to join them, his smile is brighter than it has been for cycles.

* * *

"You might want to work on your sweet-talking," a dry voice comes from behind him.

"Hux!" Anakin spins on his heel. Hux's black uniform blends into the sombre colours of the corridor. He dives forward to hug him. Hux allows it; patting him awkwardly on the back. It's strange to realise that he's gotten tall enough that he doesn't have to look up at Hux.

"It is good to see you, Anakin." Hux's smile is the same. Barely visible except for the creases at the corner of his eyes. He doesn't look any different. He does look a little out of place in the splendor of the Senate reception suite; austere and slender.

"I looked for you," Anakin says. A little awkward. His cheeks heat with emotion. Hux's expression softens.

"I didn't want to interfere with your training," he says. "The moisture farmer your mother married needed help with his machines so I've been kept busy."

"Married?" Anakin stares at him. "What?"

"Watto lost the shop," Hux explains. "Betting on Sebulba. He had to sell almost everything, including your mother."

Fear closes an icy fist around his heart, Anakin stutters. Hux reads his expression and immediately shakes his head.

"No, it's okay. Cliegg bought her so he could free her." Hux catches his shoulder. "He's a good man. He lost his wife to the sands and he was struggling. Your mother is happy. She misses you terribly."

"I miss her," Anakin swallows. "Master Obi-Wan says that when I'm a Knight, I can visit her. It isn't allowed while I'm a padawan."

"She is very proud of you," Hux says. "I've tried to keep her informed."

"She is happy? He treats her well?" Anakin presses.

Hux meets his gaze easily. "He adores her. He would give her the stars if he could. His son loves her."

"She has a new son?"

"No," Hux says immediately. "Owen's mother was Cliegg's first wife. She's not trying to be his mother. That's why he loves her."

"Oh," Anakin hates that he feels better for hearing that. "I'm glad she's happy."

"We can talk more later," Hux says. "You have work to be doing."

"Yes," Anakin hesitates then darts forward to hug Hux again. "I have missed you. It is really good to see you."

"I missed you too," Hux says, almost too quiet for him to hear. Then he speaks louder. "We'll talk later."

He steps back and Anakin smiles at him. He can hear Obi-Wan talking with Captain Panaka about the security for the Senatorial residence and he hurries to catch up. The last thing he sees over his shoulder is Hux vanishing into the crowd of senatorial staff heading for the lift. He tries to keep a sense of where the man is through the Force but Hux is as elusive as ever.

Anakin bites his lip and reminds himself that Hux said he'd come back. Hux has always come back when he promised that he would. Anakin can trust him. He still cranes his neck to peer through the windows at the side of the lift, looking for a flash of red hair.

"What are you looking at?" His Master is frowning at him.

"I-" Anakin hesitates. "Hux."

"He's here?" Obi-Wan sounds startled.

"He was," Anakin says. "He told me that my mother was free."

"That was kind of him," Obi-Wan says. He sounds distracted. Anakin eyes his Master warily. He's never spoken of Hux to Obi-Wan, not since his Master sent the man away. Anakin knows that his Master must have had a reason but he missed Hux more than he had expected.

To have Hux _and_ Padmé makes his heart skip in his chest, a hurt he barely noticed anymore easing at last. He is nearly a Knight and when he is, he can go to see his mother and meet her new husband. He can see Padmé whenever he wants. He can ask Hux's advice and show him around Coruscant.

"I," his Master hesitates, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "I have wanted to speak to him. I owe him an apology."

Anakin stares at his Master, shock stealing his voice.

"I was," Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I expressed myself very poorly when we last spoke."

"You mean the argument?"

"Yes, I mean the argument," Obi-Wan frowns at him. "I should not have been so harsh and I want to apologize but he never returned so I never could."

"Really?" Anakin wonders if his Master had been hit in the head on their last mission and he failed to notice.

"Yes, really." His Master shakes his head. "He is your friend. He has some connection to the Force that even Master Qui-gon cannot understand. I should not have sent him away."

"I'll tell him," Anakin says then adds honestly, "he might not. He's ...not very forgiving."

"I would still like to apologize," Obi-Wan says. "I owe him that."

The lift doors open and a jumble of Senatorial aides file out. His Master exhales and turns his attention to the new arrivals. Anakin tucks his hands into his sleeves and struggles to keep the bubbly feeling of joy off his face.

* * *

Obi-Wan doesn't even see what actually goes wrong. The fight is chaotic. He _hates_ fighting Mandalorians. There are too many variables, too few second chances. He mis-times his leap by less than a millisecond and his foot skids instead of landing firmly. He goes down in an undignified heap. The air is driven from his lungs by the impact.

He sees Jango Fett level his blaster at his head. His lightsabre is just out of reach. His grip on the Force slips just when he needs it most. He thinks that this is a stupid way to die.

Then a blaster fires twice and Fett's gun spins out of his hand. The bounty hunter looks up and past Obi-Wan then ducks as another shot cuts through the rain. He runs for his ship as Obi-Wan pushes himself to his feet.

His hand finds the tracker and he throws reflexively. The tracker lands, thank the Force and its benevolence to beleaguered Jedi. He nearly collapses again, having thrown himself completely off balance but there are hands grabbing his robe and hauling him upright.

He turns his head to thank his rescuer and startles. The rain turns Hux's hair dark and washes away the stiffness. The man doesn't look even slightly bothered by the pouring rain. Obi-Wan quite frankly resents that.

"Hux," he manages.

"Are you injured?" Hux demands.

"Just winded," He gets his feet under him. Hux keeps hold of him until he's steady. "Your timing was impeccable, thank you."

"Jango is dangerous," Hux says. "Don't under-estimate him."

"I learned that the hard way," Obi-Wan says ruefully and calls his lightsabre to his hand. They run back to the shelter of the settlement. Obi-Wan turns to Hux even as he tries to wring some of the water from his robes. "I owe you an apology, Hux."

The other man blinks at him. "What?"

"I was...unnecessarily harsh the last time we spoke," Obi-Wan makes himself meet Hux's wary look. "I had some valid concerns but I communicated them badly and I did not consider your side. That was wrong. I should have been more considerate. I apologize."

"Apology accepted," Hux says after a moment. "You should get after Fett. That tracker has a limited range."

"You're right," Obi-Wan nods then stops when a strange expression crosses Hux's face. The other man tilts his head and Obi-Wan feels the murmur of the Force around them. Hux's eyes go wide and his expression blanks.

"No, no, no-" Obi-Wan feels a surge of dread and horror that sends chills down his spine and Hux is gone.

He looks around foolishly, as if Hux might reappear just as quickly as he left. He should do ...something but there's nothing he can do until and unless Hux reappears. He has more pressing matters to attend to but he still feels a thread of guilt as he hurries for his ship.

* * *

"Shmi!" She wakes with a jolt, ropes cutting into her flesh. Hux is there. She blinks at him and her eyelashes stick together. She has been here for an eternity. Every inch of her body hurts. Her mouth moves but her voice is spent.

They like the sound she makes when a blade cuts into her skin. She has made that sound a lot.

"Hux," she manages at last. He comes at her call, as he always does. His hair shines golden in the light of the fire. He's the only bright thing in the grubby pit. He talks to her, she thinks. She sees the faint gleam of light on his gloves when he reaches for the ropes at her wrists.

His hands pass through. She blinks as he tries again. His hand goes through the wood and rope like he's a ghost. He curses like a spacer. It takes another eternity for her to realize.

"Are-are you dead too?"

The sound Hux makes hangs between them like an open wound.

"No. You're not dead." Hux wipes his eyes. His fingers smear red and black across his face. "Ani is coming, Shmi. Just. Just hold on."

"I dream of him," Shmi says, eyes closing. "And-and of you. Sometimes. Sometimes, I dream that we went to Cliegg's farm together.

She opens her eyes as Hux reaches for the knots again. They pass through the rope like water through sand. She feels a cool pressure, barely stronger than a breeze.

"Five would have been a lot," she says. "Six with Beru. But you-you and Ani were so clever with machines. We would have managed. Cliegg likes you and he would-" she chokes on the dry air "-he would have loved Ani."

Hux's breathing is harsh. He doesn't look at her when he nods. "He would."

The flap behind him opens. The sudden sunlight is blinding and she cries out. Hux blocks the light. There is shouting and Shmi cannot see. Her eyes see only the lingering glare. There is laughter, grunts, the hiss of a whip and Hux's punched out breath. The fire of his hair dulls with blood or dirt.

It's all the same in the firelight. They step over Hux to reach her. The pain steals time from her. All she can do is feel her heartbeat like a whiplash against her ribs and try to twist away from the pain. Their laughter is like needles under her skin, left to fester. When she can breathe again, it is quiet and something wet presses against her lips.

The water is tepid and burns like acid where her lips are torn and raw. Shmi swallows greedily. The water stings the whole length of her throat. Hux drops the rag when there is nothing left but damp threads. His face is a patchwork of blood and bruises. His hair hangs over one eye. She had not realized how long it was.

He only raises one hand to tug at her ropes this time. When they pass through just like they did before, he drops his head to the wooden strut. His breath stutters and he sways.

"Hux," she manages faintly.

"Save your strength, Shmi," his voice is barely a croak. "Ani is coming. Hold on for him."

"I'm afraid," she confesses to his bent head.

Hux rolls his head just enough that the firelight gleams in his eye. He is still breathing in jagged stutters that feel painful. She uncurls the fingers of the hand closest to him. Hux's eye closes. Slowly his hand finds hers. It is solid in her grip and she clings to him.

"I am afraid of the pain," she whispers. "I am afraid to die. I don't want to hurt anymore."

Hux's grip on her tightens just a little. They breathe together for a few minutes. His eye glitters when he opens it to look at her.

"Dying doesn't hurt," he tells her. "It...it's like pulling a splinter. A quick sting and then...relief."

"Oh," she whispers. She tries to cling to him. Her fingers are numb. The air at her back is getting colder. The light creeping under the flap has gone dark. Hux is still breathing and she focuses on that. Her head lists to the side and her eyes close without her permission.

"Ani is coming," Hux whispers. "Hold on."

 _I will,_ she promises but she can't muster the strength to speak. The darkness is soft as it folds around them. She lingers in a timeless haze, her pain a low constant heat that keeps her from falling asleep. She doesn't notice Hux's grip loosening until his hand slips from hers.

He makes almost no sound as he falls, the faintest rustle of cloth lost in the crackle of the fire.

Shmi can't force her eyes open. Her ruined throat can't form words. She can't make her limbs move. All she can do is strain her ears for the sound of his breathing. The only thing she hears is the crackle and hiss of the fire.

She can't tell if the faint rasp of air is him or just her own desperate wish.

A new sound cuts through the air; a hiss and a thrumming that she doesn't recognize. She thinks they are back to finish the job. Hands touch her face and there is a voice.

"Mom?"

"Ani?" She opens her eyes as the ropes fall away from her wrists. Her legs won't bear her weight but there are gentle arms to steady her. She stares at the strange face of her son. His hair is shorter. Darker too, but that might just be the dim light. His face is refined, mature and she can see the echo of her own parents in the sharp lines of his chin and cheeks.

His eyes are what she recognizes; blue and bright as the stars on a clear night.

"You've grown," she marvels, lifting a hand to touch his face. "So much."

"Mom, it's going to be okay," he says, voice blurred with tears.

"It's all right," she says because he is her son and he is crying. She feels heavy, like all her limbs are sinking into sand. The pain is fading. She thinks of Hux's words. A sharp sting and relief. She smiles at her beautiful boy, grown into a marvelous man and can only feel gratitude.

"Mom!" His voice echoes and Shmi smiles at him.

Her chest is sinking now, her lungs emptying for the last time and she keeps her eyes open. The last thing she sees is her son, glided by the firelight. The last thing she thinks is _Thank you_.

* * *

Padmé feels like an interloper. When Ani comes back carrying his mother's body, the Lars family contracts with grief. Beru is leaning into Owen, supporting his weight when Ani lifts the bundled body from the back of his speeder. Cliegg stares at it and seems to shrink before her eyes. He looks much older, more tired and hopeless.

Owen and Ani dig the grave. Padmé helps Beru with Cliegg. She has been to many funerals but never so immediate to those who have lost. She thinks of Cordé and swallows down her grief. Ani is like a lost child.

She has to look away when he kneels at the foot of Shmi's grave and she sees Hux standing silently to one side. No-one else seems to notice. Padmé listens to Ani's broken farewell to his mother and lingers by the grave as Cliegg is taken back to the house by his son and Beru.

She waits until they are alone before she turns to Hux. Her greeting dies on her lips as she looks at him.

He looks awful. One sleeve is hanging empty from his uniform and his hair is hanging in a loose wave over his eye. It doesn't hide the bloody mess that is his right eye. She thinks he's missing the eye for a moment.

"What happened?" He dodges her outstretched hand.

"I tried to interfere," he says bitterly. "I was...corrected."

"I don't understand."

"I tried to save her," Hux spits. "It wasn't permitted."

Padmé raises her hand and again, he pulls away. He is more animated than she's ever seen him; all rage and grief. Blood sticks his hair to his face. She stops moving and he spins away from her. He isn't steady on his feet and he lifts his hand to rake his hair back.

"Who wouldn't permit it?"

"The karking Force," he snarls. "I could save Jinn because the precious fucking Jedi get all the rules broken for them. Nobody cares about a poor woman in the Rim. Her life is nothing but a footnote to tragedy. I cared. I should have saved her!"

"Cliegg said you weren't here when she was taken," Padmé says. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have!" Hux turns again and stops in front of the grave. "What's the point of this if all I can do is watch?"

Padmé falters. Hux stares down at the grave, hand closed tightly into a fist. She wants to call for Anakin but she doesn't think it would help. The Lars family are strangers to her. She wishes Master Jinn was here.

"Master Hux?" Threepio comes out of the house. "Oh, Master Hux! You have been damaged!"

"I'm fine," Hux snaps.

"You...well, pardon my crudeness, sir, but you're leaking!" Threepio turns to R2. "I am not particularly knowledgeable about human schematics but I am confident that you should not be leaking vital fluid like that."

"It doesn't matter," Hux says more quietly. "It will heal."

"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, sir," Threepio draws himself up to his full height. "There is no reason to allow yourself to leak if it can be remedied."

"We have medical supplies on the ship," Padmé offers. "I can fetch them."

"No." Hux looks away. "Thank you but no. It will pass."

"You are in pain," Padmé argues. "I could at least bandage-"

"No." Hux forces a smile. "It will be fine. It's just a question of time. Ani needs you right now."

"He's angry," she says.

"He's in pain," Hux says.

"So are you."

"I'll heal," Hux looks over to where Threepio is still hovering. "If I fall over from blood-loss, Threepio will call you."

"I don't think you should be alone," Padmé says. "Come with me."

"I'm not fit for company," Hux says. "And I am used to being alone. He needs you."

Padmé wavers. Hux turns to look at her. The slashes around his eye seem to be closing. There's less blood and he stands a little straighter. He's calmer now but she doesn't trust it. He's got himself under control but there's something raging under the surface.

"He loves too deeply," Hux says. It almost sounds like a warning. "So deeply that he doesn't always know what to do with it or how to express it. He doesn't love easily but when he does..."

"I understand," she nods to him before turning to Threepio. "Keep an eye on him for me."

"Yes, mistress," Threepio bobs in acknowledgement.

"He'll be in the workshop," Hux says as she leaves.

She finds Ani there, picking through scraps of droids and tools. He's angry but he's hurting so much that her own heart aches. She should have insisted Hux come with her. It's too dangerous to be this close to him when he's like this.

She can remember her duty when there are other people. It is a matter of remembering that he is a Jedi, almost a Knight already. He has a greater responsibility. Her duty must come before childish impulses. He is a friend, can only be a friend. She tries to remember him as the child who won the pod-race.

But as she watches him rage against a universe full of uncaring monsters, she sees the man he is becoming. She tries to comfort him but her words feel stiff and hollow. She can't reach him like this. She can't keep her distance and comfort him. He's not a child anymore, neither of them are.

Padmé touches his hand and Ani turns to her with such need in his eyes. She looks at him and knows, deep in her heart, that she is lost. She will not tell him but she will not lie to herself either. She loves him. All the things she meant to say dry up and she stares at him.

She might have done something very stupid if Threepio hadn't picked that moment to come hurrying through the door with news of a message.

* * *

The clone medical officer puts some bacta on his cheek and brow but there's nothing he can do about Anakin's arm. The burn of the lightsabre has severed the nerves and cauterized the stump. The best they can offer is a sling and a crude prosthetic until he gets fitted for a more sophisticated model. Anakin thanks him and Obi-Wan tells him that he will tell the Temple Healers to make arrangements.

Obi-Wan leaves Anakin to check back on Padmé while he debriefs the Council. Anakin peers around at the different knots of people bustling around the camp. The clones are strange to his Force senses; all their minds are echoes of each other. He thinks of children, of babies in a creche with blank, soft spaces in their heads.

After a few minutes, he gives up the pretence. He lets her bright presence draw him in. Even in dusty clothes and bloody bandages, she looks like the Queen she always was. She is sitting in the shadow of their ship and Anakin's step quickens. She laughs and his heart skips a beat.

Hux is standing beside her, both arms intact. He looks like he always has, solid and neat. Anakin falters and Hux looks over at him. His eyes flick to the crude arm for a minute and are dark with sorrow when he looks up. Anakin swallows against the lump in his throat. Hux inclines his head, folding his arms across his chest.

"The Council wants you safely returned to Naboo," Anakin turns to Padmé. "The Queen will need to be informed about current events before the Senate sits again."

"Will you be accompanying me?" Padmé looks boldly up at him.

"If it pleases you," Anakin's smile breaks through his professional expression.

"Very much so," Padmé smiles and Anakin feels his cheeks burn. He fumbles a bow and Padmé laughs. Heat crawls up the back of his neck and he swallows. He feels like he's grown four inches and he's knocking into things again. He remembers Hux a few seconds too late to be discreet and turns back to him.

Hux is smiling, the half-hidden curl of his lips that means happiness rather than contempt.

"I think Threepio and I should excuse ourselves," Hux says dryly. "I think we're surplus to requirements."

"Really, Master Hux?" Threepio shuffles around to peer at them. "Oh! Well, you might be right, sir. In fact, if I may be so bold, I would very much appreciate your assistance."

"What's wrong now?" Hux asks.

"Well, you see, I was decapitated during the conflict," Threepio looks around. "R2 was kind enough to reattach my head before I lost function but it was rather hastily done, sir, if you take my meaning."

"That shouldn't be too much trouble," Hux unfolds his arms. "Someone around here is bound to have tools."

Anakin watches Hux turn and has to fight the urge to reach out. Hux always disappears like this and Anakin doesn't want him to go. Not so soon. He wants to sit with Hux and talk about his mother. Hux knew her. He thinks Hux knew more about how she ended up with Lars. He wants to know. He wants to be able to think of his mother being happy.

"Hux," Padmé catches Anakin's flesh hand. "Will you be travelling with us?"

She's so much braver than he is. Hux's expression blanks as he looks back at them. Anakin can't even read anything through the Force. Hux is too guarded. He lifts a copper brow. "I feel that we just established I would be surplus to requirements."

"We are going to marry," Padmé says in a rush. "It has to be secret but-"

"But?"

"It would mean a lot," she squeezes Anakin's hand, "to both of us, to have a friend there to wish us well."

Hux blinks, genuinely shocked. "I-well, congratulations, firstly. Both of you. I. I would be honoured. Thank you."

So when Anakin pledges his heart and his life to Padmé in a sunny garden on Naboo, he does so with his droids on one side of him and Hux silent and solemn on the other. Hux signs as the only witness.

"I wish you all the happiness in the Galaxy," he says a little gruffly. "Your mother would be so happy for you."

Anakin hugs him, wishing for some of Padmé's eloquence. He can't make the words come but Hux doesn't need him to find the words. He never has. Hux pats his shoulder as he pulls back. He bends to kiss Padmé's cheek before stepping back so she can fit under Anakin's arm.

"Love each other," Hux says, "trust each other and you will weather anything the universe can throw at you."

"We will," Padmé promises and Hux's smile is sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Shmi's death and her last few hours are covered in the fic. The descriptions are not graphic but are explicit. 
> 
> If you need to scroll past that section, the next section starts with "Padmé feels like an interloper."


	4. So Bury Fear

Anakin comes back from his wedding to find himself a Knight and a General. It's ...a lot. He's not the only new arrival; Jedi that he's never met fill the corridors of the Temple and the noise of living beings fills every room. 

Some of his age-mates are knighted alongside him and he feels a little like an after-thought. It doesn't feel like a celebration. The whole ceremony feels like an empty gesture and Master Koon talks more about the coming war then how well they have done. Master Jinn attends his knighting ceremony and takes the time to offer his condolences over Anakin's mother.

"Obi-Wan told me," he says, reading Anakin's surprise in his face. "You spoke of it when they were treating your injuries."

"Oh." Anakin looks at the floor. He doesn't remember saying anything at all to the medics or to Obi-Wan. For a second he's petrified about what else he might have let slip. But Master Jinn just pats his arms.

"I am sorry you had to deal with that alone," he says. Anakin has to blink back a sudden rush of tears. All the other Jedi are talking of the war or those who fell on Geonosis. Master Jinn looks genuinely pained and his eyes are sad. His concern is a soft warmth in the Force.

"I wasn't," Anakin blurts out. Master Jinn looks startled. "Padmé came with me to Geonosis and...and Hux was there."

"I am glad that they were there," Master Jinn's smile is kind.

Then Master Windu is calling for Master Jinn and he has to go. Anakin is left standing alone. He rubs a hand through his hair, still surprised when he feels the short hairs where his padawan braid was. He doesn't even know what he's supposed to do now. The door behind him hisses open and Obi-Wan comes hurrying out of the Council chamber.

"Anakin! Good, I wanted to catch you before you left," Obi-Wan says briskly. "I wanted to give you this before the ceremony but Senator Bartlen insisted on speaking to me and there wasn't time."

"All right?" Anakin says.

"Try not to lose this one. At least for a week? Two, if you can." Obi-Wan unclips a light-sabre from his belt and holds it out. Anakin accepts it, mouth opening to complain, and nearly drops it as the Force-impressions wash over him. Determination, assurance, pride...a blue light reflecting in the stars overhead.

"It was mine," Obi-Wan says, folding his arms, "and Master Jinn's before that. You're a Knight now, Anakin, and that means that you're going to be sent off on your own. I want you to have it...well, I want you to have it so you remember that we are always there if you need us."

Anakin stares down at the- _his_ sabre and swallows hard. He should say something. He can barely breathe past the lump in his throat. Instead he lunges forward and hugs his Master hard enough that he lifts the smaller man right off his feet. Obi-Wan oofs but hugs him back.

"I am very proud of you, Anakin," Obi-Wan says seriously when Anakin sets him down. "You are going to a remarkable Jedi, my friend."

Anakin manages a watery 'thank you' before Gwif Ghoski, Master Husiti's former padawan, calls his name. Newly-minted Knights surround him all of a sudden and Obi-Wan claps him on the back. 

"Try not to stay out too late," Obi-Wan says. "I will see you in the morning."

Anakin's age-mates insist on going out to celebrate. The permission has been granted because the Senate is in the process of formalizing the new Grand Army of the Republic. War has been declared but, as far as anyone seems to know, nothing is happening yet. The older Knights allow them to leave in the same way the nursery attendants used to allow younglings to have a second dessert on Life Day.

The evening is pleasant enough. It's mostly drinking and roaming through cantinas in the under levels. Anakin doesn't really know that many of his age-mates and most of the new Knights are older than him anyway. He mostly wishes that he could see Padmé. He does manage to send a short message, telling her about his knighting from a public kiosk.

He gets back late enough that dawn is breaking through the windows and finds R2 waiting in his room. He thinks that he must have made a mistake but the droid whistles cheerfully and trundles forward to bump into his shins in what is probably meant to be a friendly way.

"Hey, R2! Good to see you, buddy. What are you doing here?"

R2 whistles, and projects a flicking blue hologram of Padmé. She's dressed in her Senatorial splendor and one or two of her handmaids cross the display as she speaks. It's a perfectly polite, almost friendly, message. She congratulates him on his knighting and tells him that she feels better knowing that he is one of the Jedi who will defend the Republic.

"I have heard from my friends in the Requisitions and Supply sub-committees," she adds, "that there is an acute shortage of astromechs for the Army and the Jedi who will lead them. As a sitting member of the Senate, I can spare R2 for the greater good. I would like to think he is safe with a friend and I know he will be a great help to you."

"I hope you will forgive my presumption," she smiles at him, "if I keep your protocol droid in his place. I have not needed a personal protocol droid but if I am to try to find a diplomatic solution to this conflict, his assistance could be invaluable. Be careful, Ani, and good luck."

Anakin blows out a relieved sigh. He's glad that she's keeping Threepio. If it hadn't been for the war, no-one would have cared if Anakin kept him but there's no place for a protocol droid in a warzone. He can't bear to even think of losing him.

Threepio and Hux are all he has left of his mother. She never had much in the way of possessions and Anakin wouldn't have wanted to deprive Beru of the clothes that she'd left even if he'd wanted them in the first place. Padmé will keep Threepio safe and he'll be useful. Droids need to be useful, he knows.

"Looks like you're going to spending some time with me, R2," he says, patting the droid's dome.

R2 whistles, head spinning to scan the room and another blue hologram flickers to life. It's Padmé, this time dressed only in a flowing robe with her hair hanging loose and her smile is real.

"My dearest love," she says. "I can't say much. My attendants will be coming to wake me very soon. This message is encrypted. Only R2 and Threepio have the decryption keys and Threepio insists that it is absolutely secure."

"This war is going to demand most of our time and energy, I'm afraid. I would spend every moment I have with you but that's not possible. So, I've arranged this way to speak privately so I can tell you how much I love you and how much I miss you already."

Her eyes sparkle as she smiles at him. "Please do be careful and come back to me safely. I can't wait until I see you again."

Anakin reaches out, the blue light flickering around his hand before R2 cuts the projection. He blinks a couple of times and has to swallow. He can almost smell the flowers in her hair and he misses her so sharply that it hurts.

"You can," he gestures blindly at the little droid, "you can send her a message, right?"

R2 beeps an affirmation and Anakin looks down at himself.

"Wait, I need to use the refresher and comb my hair," he rubs his flesh hand across his face and the glove scrapes on his stubble. "And shave! And, and brush my teeth. I'll be right back, okay?"

R2's whistle might be a little mocking but Anakin is already stripping off his clothes and trying to compose his return message. He isn't happy with the final results but Obi-Wan knocks on his door two minutes after he's recorded it and there's no more time after that.

* * *

Captain Panaka leaves his office with hands clasped behind his back and a terse nod to his relief. Three back-to-back shifts in preparation for the War and he still feels like he's walking into a firefight with a scrap of rubbished flimsi and his undershorts. His head aches from the stims and he's old enough to know that he's getting too twitchy to be useful.

He takes the stairs down to the ground level, half an ear on the various functionaries buzzing around the Palace. There is nothing that he can add to any of the conversations; War may have been declared but there haven't been more than skirmishes yet. There is no way to prepare for the enemy when they just don't know anything.

He is crossing the courtyard, looking up at the stars when he hears a familiar voice.

"Mesa not sure about this, nuh-uh!"

"The Gungan people don't have their own Senator," another familiar voice and Panaka is halfway through the outer arch when he realizes _why_ the second voice is familiar.

"Mesa just a humble Gungan," JarJar is saying as Panaka turns on his heel and quick-marches to the small alcove by the dock. "And mesa not likin' that bom-bad city on that planet. They's all kind of strange tings and mesa no like 'em!"

"All the Bosses will be busy on the planet," the man leaning against the wall is unremarkable in the dark; his red hair might be blond and his pale colour could be from the dim light. He sees Panaka immediately and falls silent.

"Captain Panaka!" JarJar seizes his hand to shake. "It'sa good to see you!"

"And you, Representative Binks," he nods, eyes still on the human standing in the shadow. "I thought I recognized your voice."

"You'sa knowin' Hux?" JarJar claps his hands. "Dat's good!"

"I wouldn't go that far," the man —Hux?— says. "Captain Panaka."

"Good to have a name to go with the face," Captain Panaka frowns at him. The dark is deceptive and they only met that once but the man who is standing there matches his memory exactly. "It's been more than ten years."

"Time flies," Hux says.

"What brings you to Naboo?" Captain Panaka folds his arms across his chest. He's not quite accusing but Hux's slight smirk tells him it comes across anyway.

"I was visiting," Hux says. "Senator Amidala was kind enough to invite me."

"Hmm," Panaka keeps his expression blank. He shouldn't be surprised. Padmé Amidala is a very charismatic young woman and she draws troubled men like the lights on the dock draw bugs.

"Hux's sayin' that mesa should be goin' with Padmé to Coruscant," JarJar says, cheerfully oblivious to the undercurrents between the two humans. Panaka has never been sure if JarJar just doesn't see the nuances of human behaviour or if he sees them and chooses to ignore them. "Mesa not so sure."

"The Gungans are going to be readying themselves for war," Hux says. "You are the famous Gungan diplomat who united the Naboo and the Gungans in peace. Your presence will help the Senator."

"Yousa saying that..."

"I would trust him," Panaka interrupts and they both stare at him. Hux tilts his head. "And if that is resolved, Representative," he nods to JarJar, "Hux, perhaps you will join me for a drink?"

"The captain, him's got good booze," JarJar encourages.

"I wouldn't want to intrude." Hux's expression shifts back to neutral.

"Nonsense," Captain Panaka rolls his shoulders. "I never got the chance to thank you for your ...hypotheticals last time."

"I don't need to be thanked," Hux says. He's prickly, Panaka notes, but Panaka has spent more than a decade in Senator Amidala's service and most of it has involved dealing with politicians. He unfolds his arms and gestures to the arch.

"I need to thank you," he says mildly. "And I've been on stims for the last day and a half so I need to unwind and it would be nice to have some pleasant company while I do."

JarJar claps his hands and grabs for Hux's elbow. The man still doesn't seem convinced but he isn't willing to resist. Panaka offers him a wry smile. 

"The War has started, my friends," he says and Hux snorts. "We might as well savour the few moments of peace we have left."

"Well," Hux says as he pushes off the wall, "I can't argue with that."

Panaka takes them both back to the guardroom and fetches a bottle of Coreilian brandy. JarJar tells a lot of stories while Hux listens. Panaka talks about the new defences that have been installed.

"You don't approve," Hux observes.

"No," Panaka says. "It's asking for trouble."

"Naboo is the planet that handed the Trade Federation their first defeat," Hux says. "Arguably the event that made them outlaws. It's also the Chancellor's home planet. It's reasonable to imagine that Naboo would be a target."

"Huh," Panaka shakes his head. "We don't concern ourselves with Galactic affairs."

"You might not have a choice," Hux says.

"War is like that," Panaka nods and the conversation turns to current affairs. Hux doesn't say much but when the sun sets and Panaka is draping a spare coat over the snoring Gungan, he sets his half-finished glass aside. Panaka rubs his eyes and sinks back into his own chair.

"Let's hope for a short war, eh?" A yawn cracks his jaw and his eyes water.

Hux doesn't respond for a minute. "No war is short. There's too much involved. Both sides believe they're fighting for their very existence. There will be no peace until one side is crushed."

"Surely reason will prevail," Panaka says uneasily.

"Reason is the first thing to die in a war," Hux says. He sounds bitter but also tired. Panaka wonders again what Hux's background is. There hasn't been a serious war in decades but he sounds sure. The way he had when they'd talked about droid armies. "Every new battle becomes the reason for the next until there's nothing left but the war and exterminating the enemy."

Hux knocks back the rest of his brandy in one gulp. Panaka tilts the bottle but Hux shakes his head.

"The Senator will remind them," he offers at last. He believes that much. "She's a good woman."

"She is," Hux allows. "But only one woman. There are greater and darker forces in play here than anyone in the Senate knows. Some changes cannot be resisted."

"You think we're going to lose then?" Panaka asks bluntly.

"The War?" Hux shakes his head. "Oh no, I think the war can be won. It's just a question of what will be lost on the path to that victory."

Panaka sits back. His gaze is drawn irresistibly to the hulking shadow of the ion cannon where it lurks in the shadow of the Palace. Hux follows his gaze and laughs humourlessly.

"Exactly," he says and pushes away from the table. "Take care of the Senator, Captain. Voices like hers will be scarce in the coming days. We need leaders who want peace just as much as those who want victory."

It feels like he's taking a vow when Panaka salutes him. The salute is sloppy but Hux's answering salute is crisp. 

"I will keep the Senator safe," Panaka promises. His tongue feels thick in his mouth. It's getting harder to keep his eyes open. He raises his voice as Hux turns to leave. "And perhaps we'll have another drink sometime. Go over some more 'hypotheticals'."

Hux doesn't turn. His back is stiff as he sighs. "Perhaps. Go to sleep, Captain. The war will still be there in the morning."

He's gone before Panaka's eyes slide closed for the last time. In the morning, the only sign that he was ever there is the third glass and the unease sitting low in Panaka's gut.

* * *

CT-7567 checks his blaster for the ninth time as the drop ship shudders through the atmosphere. Around him, his brothers are all conducting their own last minute checks. The air is charged with nervous energy. His mind is racing and full of the pre-drop briefing.

He tries to focus on that rather than the creeping dread that makes his hands tremble. The Separatist droids are waiting for them on the planet. This time, they won't be fighting their brothers in the simulations. This time, they'll be fighting for the Republic. This time, they'll be fighting for their lives.

They've been trained for this, he reminds himself repeatedly. The finest training in the Galaxy. He re-checks the listing in his HUD. Most of his force are his batch brothers. His responsibility. They're being led by a Jedi. General Skywalker.

There's no picture or details. CT-7567 tries to imagine what this Jedi might be like. Wise, he hopes. None of his men were on Geonosis. They need an experienced leader. His training had been emphatic; experience trumps any theory. 

The ship shudders again and he rides the thump of the retro-thrusters firing. The landing is hard, knocking troopers into each other. CT-7567 orders them back to their places. "Have your blasters ready!"

CT-8834 scoffs across the comms as the ramp hisses behind him. "We're landing at a secure site. No need to be para-"

He's cut off by a blaster shot. CT-7567 sees the flash. Then CT-8834 falls with a scorch mark on his helmet. The troopers behind him stagger. The ramp hits the dirt. Sand fills the air. More blaster shots hit the ramp and the troopers standing at the top.

CT-7567 shouts himself hoarse getting his men off the ship. They emerge into a whirling battle.

The air is full of sand and shadows. Droids, troopers...it's impossible to tell. Blaster shots cut through the air. The main comms channel is full of panic. General Skywalker is barely visible. His lightsabre is barely visible through the thick clouds of sand being kicked up by the ships descending.

CT-7567 can't get an objective. No-one seems to be in charge. CT-7567 loses two men just getting clear of the ship. Every time he thinks they might be able to hunker down, droids shoot them. Every order he hears on the comms is contradicted within seconds. Once or twice, they're countermanded as the first order is being given.

In the choking sands, there's no telling trooper from droid. He hears another squad getting gunned down less than three metres away. CT-7567's men are starting to lose discipline, crowding together. CT-7567 tries to keep them moving.

A shot hits the trooper beside him in the leg. He grabs for him. The rest of the squad fall back. The sand under his boots shifts as he tries to balance. They both fall. CT-7567's blaster is knocked from his hand.

They both scramble to get back up. The trooper accidentally trips him up. He pulls the other clone down when the sands shift again. He gropes for his blaster. He feels the butt of it. He grabs for it and sends it spinning away. A dark shape looms over them. CT-7567 rolls to cover his brother. He will not die a coward.

There's a flash, a crack and the droid falls to its knees. CT-7567 hears a metallic 'tink'. Then another blaster shot. The droid falls sideways.

"Stars and kriffing planets," his rescuer drops the blaster to his side. "Don't just sit there! On your feet!"

CT-7567 is on his feet before he fully registers the words. He doesn't recognize the man. He recognizes the tone. "Sir! Yessir!"

"That's your squad?" The officer makes a sweeping gesture.

"Yessir!"

"Get your thermal displays on," the officer orders.

"But sir," CT-99834 says. "Droids don't have a heat signature!"

"So if you see something move and it doesn't have a heat signature, shoot it until it stops moving!" the officer snaps. 

"Yessir!" CT-7567's squad choruses.

"Keep within a metre of each other," the officer fires into the swirling cloud. There's a rattling clank and one of the shadows nearby falls. "Drive them back!"

CT-7567 lines his men up and they start to fire. The officer keeps giving orders. He doesn't have a comm so CT-7567 relays the orders. It seems to take forever but slowly, the tide of battle turns. The droids start to fall back. The sands settle slowly. 

CT-7567 fires at a battle droid and it goes down. He turns to fire at the next...and there isn't one. His sights track across the dunes. Nothing. The only droids he sees are smashed or inert. He lowers his blaster.

"All clear, Captain!" CT-99834 calls.

One by one, the rest of his squad sound off. CT-7567 lowers his blaster. "Keep alert, there might be stragglers."

He turns to salute the officer. The man is taller than him, dressed in a uniform that he doesn't recognize. "All clear, sir!"

"Good work, Captain," the officer says. "Set up a perimeter and tend the wounded."

"Yessir!" CT-7567 salutes again.

He knows how to set a perimeter and his men know this duty. They're tired but proud. Their first victory. Their final test. They've done it. He walks the perimeter himself and pats some of the more jittery men on the back. Everyone has done well. He knows that.

When he comes back, the officer has been joined by General Skywalker and the two have their heads together, talking quietly. The officer is gesturing over a projection of the local terrain. "-stay off the crests but don't trust the valleys either."

He glances up at CT-7567 and breaks off. "Everything in order, Captain?"

"Yessir," CT-7567 hesitates.

"What's your name?" General Skywalker asks, glancing at the officer out of the corner of his eye. The officer inclines his head and General Skywalker straightens a little, like a trooper getting full marks on an exam.

"Captain CT-7567, General sir!"

"CT-7567?" General Skywalker blinks. "That's ...uh, that's a mouthful."

"What's your nickname, trooper?" The officer says.

"Rex, sir," CT-7567 says.

"Wait, what?" General Skywalker looks back and forth.

"The numeric designation is for records," the officer says. "Most troopers have a name that they use among themselves."

CT-7567 looks at him. The officer isn't a clone. He's too tall and too pale. CT-7567's never seen anyone like him before. Was there another cloning program? Producing officers to support the Jedi?

"So, like a nickname?" General Skywalker says and Rex nods. "Do you choose it yourself?"

"Not typically," the officer says. "Usually it's decided by squadmates. Helps build unit-cohesion."

"Do I get a nickname?"

"You're a Jedi," the officer says, drier than the sand around them. "No."

"Do you get a nickname?" General Skywalker smirks at him.

"No." The officer says.

"You need a nickname," General Skywalker insists and the officer rolls his eyes. "Rex, what do you think?"

Rex looks at the officer out of the corner of eye and keeps his mouth firmly closed. The officer folds his arms and stares at General Skywalker. General Skywalker's smirk broadens into a grin.

"Red." he says. 

"I beg your pardon?" The officer's tone is making Rex feel like he's a shiny kid, failing his first round of examinations. General Skywalker seems merrily oblivious.

"Red," he repeats. "How's that for a nickname?"

"Unimaginative," the officer says flatly.

"I think it suits you," General Skywalker nudges his shoulder and the officer shakes his head. Rex sees copper under the dust and gets what Skywalker's hinting at.

"Your sense of humour is infantile," the officer says.

"Red it is then," General Skywalker beams at him. The newly-designated Red rolls his eyes but he doesn't argue. Rex carefully says nothing. Red _must_ be a clone. He wonders if he'll ever meet another. Do they deploy in squads or alone? He would not like to be deployed without any of his brothers. It would be lonely.

That is his first encounter with Red. It won't be his last.

* * *

Ventriss has nearly finished her work when she hears the sound of marching steps echo down the hallway beside the armoury. Troopers. She flattens herself against the wall. The ships offer plenty of cover.

She fingers the small control and smiles. There is nothing to fear from these clones. The Republic is weak. The Jedi are fools. She has the Dark on her side. Her Master has instructed her to sabotage this facility. The droid armies waiting just beyond the System will overrun the Republic's puny forces.

She needs only a few more minutes...

"Halt!"

She freezes. They cannot have seen her!

They haven't. There is a man standing just below her. She does not recognize the uniform but it is, unmistakably, a uniform. He pays no heed to the troopers who are training their blasters on him. He looks up. Straight at her.

"Your perimeter is compromised," he says and lifts a hand to point.

The troopers look up and Ventriss hisses. She leaps from her hiding place, just ahead of the wild scatter of shots. She draws her 'sabres and dives for the man. He steps aside at the last instant. She sends her blades spinning through the air and again he dodges.

She snarls. He smirks at her. The troopers open fire again. She cannot spare the attention to send their bolts back at them. The man evades her blows as if she is just a girl without skill or intent. 

Ventriss realizes the fight is lost. She cannot linger. The risk is too great. 

"Jedi scum," she spits.

Her opponent half-shakes his head. "I'm no Jedi."

Ventriss charges him. The Force propels her aloft as she flips over the troopers before her. The man dodges. Ventriss runs. She allows herself one last glance back. She imprints the man's face into her memory. She will remember him.

* * *

"Ahsoka!"

The orb she is balancing falls to the mat as she startles. Master Alunos tuts but Ahsoka is already looking over her shoulder to where Nahdar is waving. The other younglings peer around, curious and starting to whisper among themselves.

"May I be excused, Master?"

Master Alunos sighs and calls the orb to their hand. "You need to practice, Ahsoka. You are nearly old enough to be a padawan. You should be focused on your studies."

"I am!" Ahsoka folds her arms. "But Nahdar hasn't been back to the Temple for forever! His Master is commanding an army in the Outer Rim, he might not be here for much longer!"

Master Alunos sighs again. "You may go then. But I will expect you to work twice as hard at our next session."

"I will!" She promises, already scrambling to her feet. She bobs a quick bow to Master Alunos before running for the door. "Thank you, Master!"

"Nahdar!"

"'Soka!" He's almost vibrating with excitement as he hugs her.

"You didn't tell me you were going to be back!" Ahsoka complains and he grins at her.

"I didn't know!"

"Where's your Master?" Ahsoka can't see Master Fisto anywhere. He's usually really obvious; most Jedi aren't as tall as him.

"Still in the Rim," Nahdar says. "I've been called back by the Council."

He's so excited that the Force around him feels like it's filled with bubbles. He looks around and catches her hands again. 

"The Council think I'm nearly ready to face my Trials!"

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Ahsoka hugs him again. She's happy for him. She is. Nahdar has been like an older brother to her since Master Koon brought her to the Temple. He's going to be a great Jedi. She knows that. She's always known that.

"When I'm a Knight, I'll be able to come back more often," Nahdar says. "It will be good to see you more often!"

"Yes," Ahsoka's smile feels wrong on her face. She doesn't understand. She's happy for Nahdar. He deserves this. 

"It is a pity that Master Koon didn't take you as padawan," Nahdar says, oblivious to the way Ahsoka's hands clench at her side. "We could have been going for our Trials together."

"I wasn't old enough," Ahsoka says, folding her arms across her middle, "and he hasn't taken a padawan for nearly a decade. The Council takes up too much of his time."

That's all true. She's been told it so many times.

"The Masters need to focus on the war now," Nahdar nods. "My Master could not be spared to finish my training. That's why the Council recalled me. Master Windu is going to instruct me if I need it."

"That's great!" Ahsoka's smile feels like a lie. She spends the next hour with Nahdar, going around to talk to all their friends and the new Knights who are full of advice. She slips away when she sees Master Windu stride into the courtyard. Nahdar doesn't notice.

Ahsoka finds her way to the gardens. The sun is shining. The trees are in full bloom. There's nobody else in the garden. It's still strange. The gardens are mostly deserted these days but a part of Ahsoka still expects to see Masters and Knights talking and meditating in every corner.

She sits down under the tree nearest the door and crosses her legs. There's a small stone at the edge of the path and she reaches for it with the Force. She floats it to balance between her hands and blinks away the tears.

She doesn't know why she's so upset. She is going to be a padawan. All the Masters have said so. It's not like she's going to be a youngling all her life. The pebble wobbles as she bites her lip.

Before she can actually start crying, the door to the garden hisses open. 

"-think that it's advisable," she recognizes that voice. Master Jinn. She tries to squash herself down as small as she can. 

"You aren't-" the man who is talking to Master Jinn stops and looks around. Master Jinn follows his gaze and blinks down at Ahsoka.

"Ahsoka Tano," the man says. She blinks at him. He looks familiar but it takes a moment.

"Hello, Master Jinn and Mister Hux!"

"Just Hux," Hux says. Master Jinn is trying to hide a smile. "You've grown a lot since I saw you last."

"It's been a long time," Ahsoka points out.

"You seem troubled," Master Jinn says. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine!"

Hux looks down at her, then he looks at Master Jinn. Master Jinn tilts his head and looks at Ahsoka.

"You are troubled, my child," he says.

"I'm not!" Ahsoka blinks fiercely. She's not going to cry. She's not! Master Jinn blinks placidly down at her. "I just...all of my age-mates are padawans now! Nahdar is going to be a Knight! And I'm just a youngling!"

She can feel the tears running down her cheeks and she rubs them away angrily. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong!"

"You're not doing anything wrong," Hux says and she lifts her head to glare at him. He holds out a handkerchief. Ahsoka sniffles and takes it.

"Then why doesn't any Master want me?"

"It is not a question of wanting," Master Jinn says, kneeling down beside her. "The war is simply delaying things. The Council is just waiting for your Master to return to the Temple."

"Waiting for the opportune moment?" Hux rolls his eyes. "Your Council is more obsessed with waiting for the right time than doing the right thing."

"The demands of war are taxing us all," Master Jinn says. "But I will talk to Master Yoda. Your training should not be deferred."

"Really?" Ahsoka blinks up at him. Master Jinn smiles at her and holds out a hand.

"Really," He promises and rises to his feet. "He should be free for the next hour or so. We can go right now, if you wish."  
“Can we, please?” Ahsoka lets Master Jinn help her up. 

"I'll leave you to it then," Hux says and nods to them both. He goes back through the door. When Master Jinn leads her back through the door a few minutes later, there's no sign of him. Ahsoka doesn’t understand the significance of that for a long time.

* * *

Cody meets Red for the first time in space. He's part of General Kenobi's squad as the board a station conquered by the Separatists. The fighting is close quarters and brutal. His men do their best but they're still driven back. General Kenobi is constantly distracted by droidekas and batting away the fire from the heavy battle droids.

They get cut off from the airlocks. The station isn't designed for bipeds so there's a lot of narrow corridors and low ceilings. Cody is trying desperately to work out a route back to the ships when his squad gets cut off.

Six droidekas roll in and their shields go up. Cody's men open fire but the bolts ricochet off the shielding. They're trapped.

Cody's blaster fires one last time before he hears the whine of a depleted charge pack. He ducks back into cover, breath rasping in his helmet. He's bracing for the worst when he hears a metallic clunk and the sound of something rolling on the deck.

There's a crackle of electricity and the bolts stop. Cody's squad opens fire again and the distinctive sound of a lightsabre. The droids fall. General Kenobi takes the head of the last one and nods to another man in black with a blaster in hand.

"I think we have them on the run," General Kenobi says. "Ready, Captain Cody?"

"Yessir!"

The rest of the mission is almost too easy. They overwhelm the droids and gain control of the station. Cody reports the all clear to General Kenobi who is talking with the man in black.

"Good work, Captain Cody," General Kenobi says. "You have done very well."

"Thank you, sir," Cody glances at the stranger.

"Ah, this is Red," General Kenobi says, patting him on the back. The man, Red?, looks down at him with a curled lip. 

"You've been talking to Anakin, I see."

"I might have," General Kenobi grins. "It certainly suits you."

"It was a bad joke." Red says.

"That does sound like Anakin," General Kenobi says cheerfully.

"He gets his sense of humour from you," Red says sourly.

"I take that as a compliment," General Kenobi laughs. Red rolls his eyes. "I am glad to see you. You've been a great help."

"Will you be needing a helmet, sir?" Cody asks.

"It would probably be advisable," General Kenobi says. He looks at Red who doesn't argue. "Red might find himself in need of a helmet in the future."

"I'll make sure there are spares," Cody says. He nods to Red who inclines his head in answer. He doesn't entirely understand what's going on but Red has been useful on this mission. His accuracy with a blaster is commendable. His tactical awareness seems solid and he's certainly willing to fight.

Cody doesn't need to know more. It isn't his place to question.

* * *

Bail sees the young man for the first time as he leaves Senator Amidala's office after a productive strategy meeting about tariffs. He is distracted, mentally composing the memorandum he needs to compose for the Chancellor's aides.

It is the uniform that draws his eye first. Pure black amid the dark red and blue of the Senator's Naboo guards. The young man is standing at attention to Captain Panaka's left, posture perfect.

He is pale for a Naboo, Bail thinks. He looks again and thinks that he should have heard of this young man. He's handsome enough to draw admirers and his colouring would make a thrice-married matron blush. His secretaries keep a watchful eye on the dalliances of his allies and their staff, the better to cut off any blackmail attempts but Bail doesn't know this man.

He happens to have some free time that very evening while waiting for the Chancellor's Factorum Minum to review a statement. He brings up the dossiers on Senator Amidala's staff. Perhaps the young man is married? Under close supervision by his House?

His staff have done an admirable job but Bail cannot find any mention of the young man. All the Senator's staff are dark-haired and dark-eyed. His first thought, born of a decade and a half serving in the Galactic Senate, is assassin. He dismisses that thought just as quickly. The young man had been speaking with Captain Panaka in a very familiar manner. Bail trusts the Captain to be cautious.

Who _is_ this young man? 

Bail stops at his secretary's desk after his conversation with the Factorum.

"A redhead, Senator?" She shakes her head. "I haven't seen a redhead in the Senator's entourage."

"Look into it," Bail says before putting the matter out of his mind.

He has a rash of petitions on his desk the next day and does not think of the young man again for three weeks. Countless refugees from war-torn systems are pleading for sanctuary and Alderaan's far-flung children are constantly in danger as the War spreads throughout the Galaxy

He runs into the young man again, almost literally, one evening. He had invited Senator Amidala to attend the Bothian Symphony with him. He genuinely admires her work ethic and her willingness to spend long hours in her office. He sees a lot of his own youthful idealism in her and is eager that she not burn herself out. The Senate needs more voices like Padmé Amidala, not less.

Besides, her company is always a pleasure.

He hears Padmé's laughter as the watchman opens the door for him. She is standing in the reception hallway while the red haired young man loops a final braid in her elaborate coiffure. Her handmaids are giggling into their hands and Padmé's protocol droid is attempting to peer around the taller man.

"That should be most satisfactory," the protocol droid says. "Well done, sir!"

Bail doesn't catch what the young man actually says, just enough to suggest a High Courscanti accent. The young man's eyes snap to the door and he steps back, hands dropping to his side.

Padmé turns to catch his hand with a smile. "Thank you!"

She catches sight of Bail as she turns. "Bail! I mean, Senat-"

"Padmé," Bail interrupts. "You look wonderful."

"I had expert assistance," Padmé smiles at her handmaids and the young man standing stiffly beside her. She crosses to Bail and puts her hand in the crook of his elbow. "We're not late, I hope?"

"Not at all," he smiles. Her handmaids pull on their own cloaks. The young man helps Namé who is starting to show in the slight wobble of her balance and the elaborate embroidery around her thickening waist. She smiles fondly as she thanks the young man.

He takes a smart step back. "Senator Organa. Senator Amidala. Ladies."

His bow would make a House tutor weep. Padmé's smile softens. The young man takes two steps back, pivots and disappears through the side door. Padmé watches him go. Bail says nothing, only guides her out to the speeder where he starts an idle conversation about Virago Thaaraeh Krey'laena and her many interpretations of the Symphony they are to attend.

He waits until the second intermission, when their aides have gone to fetch refreshments before he asks about the young man.

"Oh, Hux is..." her cheeks pink, "a friend. Jedi Skywalker introduced us after the Battle of Geonosis."

"I see," Bail allows her to redirect the conversation. He considers his next move carefully. 

A dalliance with a handsome young man is hardly scandalous. Padmé is old enough to be courting or courted. His intelligence network has turned up nothing about the young man so he hardly has a reputation. He cannot believe that Padmé would enter a relationship with a married man. Perhaps his House disapproves? He might have a guardian who disapproves or an intended betrothal? It might be as simple as Padmé feeling guilty about having this private happiness during the turmoil of war.

It would be like her, he thinks fondly. He will not press. Let her have this. He would wish her as much happiness as he and Breha have shared. Love, he believes, is more important than ever in times of war. 

When Breha visits a few weeks later, Bail points out Padmé and her young man when he sees them in the Senate gardens. His love pauses, looking hard at Hux. She does not seem disapproving so much as puzzled.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Breha shakes her head. "I just... Well, I met someone who looked just like him once."

"His father, perhaps?"

"Not that long ago," she smacks his arm lightly. "Maybe an older brother? Or an uncle? His House must be well-connected if it produces such handsome sons."

"What did you think of him?" Bail asks. He doesn't remember Breha ever speaking of such a man.

"Very formal," Breha says after a moment of thought, "but...kind, despite that."

"Good," Bail says simply and leads his wife to where his aides have laid on a private dinner under the blossoming Snepar trees. His mind turns to more pleasant things.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do with a Padawan?" Anakin wails to Hux as soon as Asoka is asleep.

Hux laughs even as he unhooks the trooper helmet that disguises him. "Train her, I presume."

"What do I know about training a padawan?!"

"Well, you've been a padawan," Hux points out. "What did Kenobi teach you? What didn't he teach you that you wish he had?"

Anakin drops into the pilot's seat and buries his face in his hands. "You're not helping!"

"I never had an apprentice," Hux says, propping a hip against the control panel. "I don't know what you're expecting from me here."

"I just..." Anakin rakes his fingers through his hair and one of his finger joints crackles and bends the wrong way. The feedback makes him yelp.

"What have you done this time?" Hux pushes off the console. "Let me see."

"I think the bearing's worn out," Anakin says glumly as he holds out his hand. Hux pulls the toolkit from under the co-pilot's chair. He strips off the glove and starts working on the janky joint. 

"Looks like you dislocated it," Hux says, bending the finger. "Doing unnecessary back-flips, perhaps?"

"I was fighting strategically!"

"Jedi strategy seems to involve a lot of showing off," Hux says pointedly.

"It's not showing off," Anakin sniffs, trying to recreate his Master's most pompous tone, "It's all necessary, I assure you."

"You are not allowed to teach Ahsoka that," Hux says immediately. "One Kenobi is enough to inflict on the Galaxy."

"But two Skywalkers is okay?""

Hux stops, head bent over the malfunctioning joint. He doesn't say anything for a long moment. Anakin wishes Padmé was there. Hux clears his throat and reaches for a smaller screwdriver. "Two Skywalkers? That sounds horrifying."

"Hey!"

"Two Skywalkers," Hux says quietly, unscrewing the joint and popping the damaged bearing out. "There are worse things to wish for."

Anakin doesn't say anything to that but he watches Hux repair his hand and tries not to twitch as Hux installs the new bearing. He flexes his hand and nods approval. "Feels good."

"Maybe try not to use it to somersault this time," Hux says dryly. He stows his tools away again. Anakin thinks of how Hux used to put the makeshift tools that they'd assembled on Tatooine away. Most of them broke every time they were used. Watto had thrown those sort of tools out as useless trash. Hux had always put them back, repaired what he could and set the broken aside for salvage.

"Hey," he says and Hux tilts his head. Anakin can't assemble the knot of feeling in his chest into words so he doesn't say anything about the tools and Hux's careful precision. "What should I tell Ahsoka about you?"

Hux blinks.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure Rex doesn't actually believe that you're actually part of a super secret cloning program but that's what most of the other troopers think. She's not going to believe it for long if I try to tell her that story."

"You shouldn't lie to your padawan," Hux says. "You don't have to tell her everything but you should never lie to her."

"Are you going to stay long enough for me to introduce you?" Anakin asks.

Hux considers. He looks tired. He's been looking tired a lot lately. Anakin doesn't know everything Hux does when he's elsewhere. Obi-Wan's let some things slip and he's heard the troopers talk about 'Red' enough that he can guess some of it. 

"Not this time," Hux says with a shake of his head. "I don't think I'm staying this time."

"Oh." Anakin sits back. 

"I'm sorry, Ani," Hux and Padmé are the only ones who call him that anymore. It is a strange thing to realize. "I would stay if I could."

"I know," Anakin manages a smile. "One day, you will. I know that."

Hux closes the toolkit and slides it back under the co-pilot's seat. "You should rest. There's still a war to fight in the morning."

"You're right," Anakin levers himself out of the pilot's seat.

"Ani?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to be a good Master," Hux says. "Ahsoka will learn a lot from you."

Anakin ducks his head, smiling. He thumps Hux's shoulder lightly as he passes back towards the cabins. Hux stays in the cockpit and as the door slides shut behind him, Anakin sees Hux look out at the stars.

* * *

"Behind you," a murmur from his left.

Qui-gon lifts his head. He hears the steps in the same instant. He doesn't look around. He quickens his step. Then, as his pursuers close in, he turns sharply down an alley. A quick thrust through the Force at ankle height.

He hears a stumble and a curse but a single leap, augmented with the Force, carries him up to the sculptured overhang. He hunkers down, closes his eyes and goes completely still. The steps come around the corner. More cursing. A harsh light plays over his closed eyelids.

The frustration of his pursuers crackles through the Force. He remains still as they search the alley. He does not recognize the language they speak but the tone and volume suggests an argument. Qui-gon breathes shallowly. Running steps head back out of the alley. He remains utterly still until he is sure they have gone. Then he opens his eyes.

No sign of a droid or camera keeping watch. He looks around again before jumping to the ground. He draws his hood back up and looks around.

"Nicely done," Hux emerges from the shadows; like a holo-projection coming into focus.

"Thank you, my friend," Qui-gon glances around. "It is good to see you. Shall we go?"

"They're local thugs," Hux says, falling into step with him. "Best to take the long route to the spaceport."

"A good idea." Qui-gon's gaze catches on a flickering sign and an open door. "I might just have a better one."

Hux follows him into the cantina without complaint. It's a seedy place; the fixtures worn and patched, the light buzzing and the machines behind the counter clunking through their programming. The proprietor is snoring behind the counter but the attendant droid activates with a chirrup and trundles out to greet them.

Qui-gon waves Hux into a seat by the window and orders a kaf from the droid. Hux, surprisingly, orders a taurine tea. He would have expected Hux to drink kaf like the Republic officers do. The droid brings their drinks, accepts Qui-gon's credits and indicates the controls to summon it again before it withdraws to its charging station.

The kaf is too hot to drink but it warms Qui-gon's hands nicely. He breathes in the scent of kaf, Hux's tea and a surprisingly bland cleaning solution. He closes his eyes and allows his awareness to permeate their surroundings. It is full night, the only sentients he can sense are himself, Hux's muted presence and the snoring owner who is solidly dreaming. He opens his eyes and looks across the table.

"How goes the War, my friend?"

"You should know better than I do," Hux says.

"I have never been partial to 'should's," Qui-gon smiles and Hux rolls his eyes.

"It goes. Not as well as the Senate would like but not as poorly as the Separatists would wish."

"Obi-Wan has told me that you are ...being of assistance," Qui-gon says delicately.

"There was a rather acute need," Hux snorts. "I couldn't just stand by. Whatever fool thought that learning to swing a lightsabre qualified one to command an actual army should have been shot."

"Jedi are trained in tactics," Qui-gon protests.

"Not on this scale," Hux says dismissively. "Not with modern innovations either."

"You have been remedying that from what I hear," Qui-gon breathes in the steam from his cup. "For more Jedi than I had expected."

"Ani's idea," Hux brings his tea to his lips. "And in armour, no-one notices that I have at least twelve centimetres on the standard trooper. So much for the famed observation skills of the Jedi."

"Hmm," Qui-gon doesn't have an answer to that. Only Master Koon has asked any questions of Obi-Wan that Qui-gon knows of. "It is a valuable service nonetheless."

"I will be glad to be done with it," Hux sets his tea down. "I have not enjoyed my encounters with your brethren."

"Oh?" Qui-gon studies the other man. Hux looks weary, eyes half-lidded and shoulder propped against the window. His eyes are still sharp and his uniform still immaculate.

"The endless rectitude and refusal to learn gets wearisome," Hux says. "Your vaunted Code seems oddly ...elastic when it comes to clones. Your fellow knights seem to have no compunctions about dragging troopers into missions they can't survive. The Republic may claim the moral high ground because they use clones instead of droids. I haven't seen that much difference in how they treat them."

"The clones were bred for this purpose," Qui-gon points out. He feels like he is on uncertain ground himself; cloning is forbidden for a reason after all.

"A purpose assigned to them by a rogue Jedi who acted outside the Council's knowledge," Hux argues. "They're as much children of the Jedi as they are Jango Fett's. Would the Jedi have been so willing to take responsibility for those men if they hadn't had such a convenient War for them to fight? If Dooku hadn't inflamed the Separatists, would the Jedi have found them another purpose?"

Qui-gon blinks. He takes a thoughtful sip of his kaf as he collects his thoughts. "I had not considered it in that light."

"An exercise in theory," Hux waves it off. "More relevant is the question of what is going to happen to them when the War is over. The Senate is happy to fund the Grand Army of the Republic while Dooku and his terrorists are running around. Will they support an army in peacetime? Should the Republic have an army if it doesn't have a war? Politicians don't like paying for something that they don't use and an army is a very tempting tool to have available."

"That is true," Qui-gon admits. He does not like the implications but he cannot deny Hux is right. "I do not know how to best address those concerns. I declined a seat on the Council for a reason, I'm afraid. You are right to say that the Jedi have a responsibility to the troopers. I will speak with the Council and we will see that they are not forgotten."

Hux looks up at him, cup forgotten on the table and Qui-gon cannot read his expression. Hux looks away, running a hand through his hair and half-shaking his head. "You are a good man, Qui-gon Jinn. I wish your Order had more men like you."

He refuses to say anymore and he leaves Qui-gon staring at the still-steaming cup across from him. Qui-gon leaves the cantina alone and makes his way safely to the port where his ship is waiting for him. No-one follows him and he gets off planet safely, the data-chip of Separatist troop movements secure in his belt. He cannot shake the unease that Hux left him with. He feels like he is missing something.


	5. Synchronized Sacrifice

Ahsoka knows she can be impatient. Every Master who's taught her has mentioned it. She's been told that it is a weakness. So she means to wait. Really. She does! But Master Skywalker is so busy! He hardly has time for her training as it is and he has no time to talk to her when the troopers are around.

And she gets it. She does. So she decides that she'll handle it.

The next time, when her Master is busy handling the diplomatic niceties of restoring the sovereignty of a liberated planet to its rightful government, Ahsoka ducks out. Nobody notices; her Master is the Jedi General after all.

She goes looking for Rex and finds him, pretty much where she expects, on the shuttle with the maps of their next target displayed in front of him. The trooper he's talking to is wearing a helmet with a sergeant's rank pip but Rex sounds like he's talking to her Master or Master Kenobi. _Gotcha_.

She walks right up to the strange trooper and sticks her hand out when he turns. "Hi! I'm Ahsoka Tano."

Rex covers his eyes with his hand. The trooper tilts his head at her and... he laughs.

"I know." He's already reaching for his helmet before she can do anything more than register that he sounds kind of familiar. Then the helmet comes off and she's staring at a face that really is familiar.

"Hux!" He staggers back a half-step as she throws herself forward to hug him. He seems a little bewildered, patting her back as if he doesn't know how to hug back.

"It's good to see you, Padawan Tano," he says and stands there until she lets go. She thinks he's smiling? Maybe. Kinda? A little around the eyes. He feels pleased in the little that she can read from his Force-presence.

It's the first time she's been able to look at him since she began her training. He's ...strange. If Jedi shine like stars to her Force senses and troopers and other Force-nulls are planets, Hux is a nebula. He doesn't glow like the other Jedi do and he feels more...dispersed. She doesn't have the words to describe what her senses are trying to tell her.

She's fascinated, that's for sure and she has so many questions! But Rex is frowning at her and just because she recognizes Hux doesn't mean that she knows what he is to the Jedi Order. She can't just ask with Rex right there anyway so she looks for a distraction.

"What are you guys doing?" she asks instead.

"Pre-planning for the next engagement," Hux says. "If we are quick, and lucky, we might be able to cut off the droid armies before they can gain a foothold. We could push them right back out of the system."

Ahsoka asks more questions. She doesn't even feel bad because Rex is asking a lot of questions too. It surprises her more than it should. Hux is actually very good at explaining his reasoning and plans. He would have made a good Master, she thinks as he finishes explaining how to use the droids' own armour against them.

"Looks like I missed a briefing," her Master calls from the door. He's smiling and Ahsoka can feel the aggravation just lifting off him as he pats Hux on the back. Hux is doing that not-a-smile thing.

"You're a smart man, I'm sure you'll catch up in the end," Hux says drily.

"We're going to get the jump on them!" Ahsoka explains what Hux has been telling them and her Master smiles at her.

"Sounds like you should pack up our things and tell R2 to finish charging then," he says. 

Ahsoka makes a big show of rolling her eyes. "As you wish, Master."

Rex excuses himself at the same time. He salutes her Master, same as always. Then he turns and salutes Hux. Ahsoka thinks that it might be a little crisper. He definitely holds it for a second longer. Her Master doesn't notice. She doesn't think Hux does either.

It's another strange thing about Hux and she adds it to the list of questions she's going to ask her Master when they have some privacy.

* * *

Padmé smiles at the attendant who bows and withdraws. 

"Fifteen minutes to summon a speeder, really!" Threepio totters past her to peer out the window. "How horrible."

"It's all right, Threepio," Padmé says. "It's very late. It's to be expected."

"It's so rude!" Threepio sniffs. "You were engaged in important work."

"I was waiting to file paperwork," Padmé says with a smile. "Nothing earth-shattering or truly important."

She takes one of the seats by the window, soft and comfortable and sits back with a sigh. She believes in the importance of the Senate and negotiation but it is hard not to feel discouraged by the endless monotony of bureaucracy and meetings that happen in place of real work.

There is a war. Countless millions of Galactic citizens are in desperate need. The Senate has to leave the war to the Jedi and the Grand Army but surely there is more that they can do to stop such suffering.

"I wonder, my Lady, if perhaps I could remain here," Threepio interrupts her brooding.

"What? Why?"

"I regret very much to say but," Threepio's eyes flicker, "I am afraid that some of my protocols are out of date. My understanding of the current bureaucracy is sadly deficient and I am not being useful. It should only take nine hours or so."

"Nine hours?" Padmé stares at him. "That seems ..excessive."

"Another thing the beastly war has caused, I expect," Threepio shakes his head. "How terrible it is!"

"Yes," Padmé says, thoughtful. She remembers Palpatine, only a Senator at that point, speaking of Valorum's adjuncts and secretaries. It was why he hadn't been able to defend Naboo from the greed of the Trade Federation. The sour taste it had left in her mouth had lingered for years.

She had voted on several reforms of the Senate bureaucracy in her first term. She remembers that, remembers thinking that no other planet would suffer while the Senate distracted itself with pointless busywork.

"Stay as long as you need," Padmé says and watches Threepio totter off down the corridor. She sits and waits for the speeder. She listens to the echoes of the droids working in the Senate building and wonders if the Senate has actually changed.

* * *

Qui-gon folds another shirt and stows it carefully in his bag. His wardrobe is empty and his bag is half-full. He adds an old picture display, his datapad and two small boxes. The smaller holds a short braid, burnt at one end and clumsily tied at the other. The larger holds a longer braid, neatly cut and carefully tied, looped over on itself and a small imperfect kyber crystal that glows with a faint blue light. 

It is not much to show for a long life. He looks around the room once last time and zips up the bag with a sigh. His door chimes and he sighs again.

"Come." The door slides open as he turns to face his visitor. "Master Koon."

"Qui-gon," his friend says as the door slides closed behind him.

"Plo," Qui-gon shakes his head. "You cannot dissuade me, my friend."

"I know," Plo sighs. "I can sense your resolve. I could sense it in the Council Chamber. I know that I cannot persuade you to remain. I only wish to _understand_ , Qui-gon. You are not an impetuous person. Help me to understand, please?"

"The war is consuming our entire Order," Qui-gon says, as he had said before. "We are losing sight of our greater purpose."

"We swore an oath," Plo reminds him, "to uphold the Republic."

"But are we really honouring that oath by fighting this war?" Qui-gon demands. "Leading millions of troopers to fight and die for a cause that they did not choose and do not understand. The Council thinks of nothing but the war and prophecies."

"The war requires our full attention."

"It shouldn't," Qui-gon sits on his bed and Plo frowns at him. "Think about it, my friend. How many petty factions has the Republic faced before? It has withstood such forces a thousand times before. Why is it that _this_ war is dragging on so long?"

Plo takes the seat by the small desk. He folds his hands in his lap and takes his time to think through his response. His voice is careful when he ventures "Dooku?"

"My once-Master is not so powerful that the entire Order should fear him," Qui-gon waves a hand. "His fall has made him more powerful but it cannot make him more intelligent. He was never more than an acceptably skilled strategist. Master Windu and Master Fisto used to beat him handily in simulations and he never won so much as a game of sabacc against any of the Knights leading armies. How has he held out against the combined might of the entire Order for so long?"

"The Dark..." Plo starts doubtfully.

"Is a path only to greater power," Qui-gon says. "Something at the heart of this war is rotten, my friend, and we Jedi are blinding ourselves to it. I am done with being blind. I wish to see."

"Have you?" Plo rumbles. "Have you Seen something?"

"No," Qui-gon shakes his head. "I have only seen enough of the patterns to be troubled. It took a friend to show me what I had already seen and why I was troubled."

"A very insightful friend," Plo observes, fixing Qui-gon with a very knowing look. Qui-gon wonders again how much Plo has actually guessed but the Force still will not allow him to even speak Hux's name. "Do you trust this friend?"

"With my life and that of my padawan," Qui-gon says.

Plo nods and rises to his feet. "And I trust you, Qui-gon. So be it. You must go but I will miss you sorely."

"I will stay in touch," Qui-gon stands and shoulders his bag. "I am not renouncing the Jedi, my friend; merely rediscovering my place within them. I will return."

"I will hold you to that," Plo exhales and embraces him. "I will accompany you to the space port."

"I would appreciate the company," Qui-gon smiles as he steps back. "Thank you."

* * *

Bail meets General Skywalker in passing when the Senate sends him to inspect the troops under Master Kenobi. He is not expecting to find three Jedi waiting for him but he does not complain.

"Senator," Master Kenobi smiles at him. "This is my former Padawan Anakin Skywalker and his padawan Ahsoka Tano."

"A pleasure," Bail says with a slight bow.

"Welcome," General Skywalker returns the slight bow. "Pad- Senator Amidala speaks very highly of you."

"I am pleased to hear it," Bail says. "She is a remarkable young woman."

"She is," Skywalker smiles fondly, clearly another of Padmé's admirers. Bail sees his smile echoed on the faces of his Master and Padawan. He wonders if Padmé has noticed how many of the Jedi respect her.

He inspects the troops, asks some pertinent questions of the captains about the strategy and sends his report back to the Senate. Master Kenobi invites him to join them for dinner and he accepts.

The food is basic but he has eaten worse and Master Kenobi and Skywalker are engaging companions. Padawan Tano excuses herself and Master Kenobi produces a bottle of Naboo red and some glasses. The conversation moves from their official duties to casual topics. Two glasses of the red and it becomes gossip, not that Bail would dream of admitting that.

He sets his glass down carefully and looks at Kenobi. Skywalker is slumped in his chair, cheeks flushed and eyes half-closed. He is not asleep but he is most of the way there. Kenobi has relaxed a fraction and only two troopers are still standing by the walls. The perfect time to ask.

"I wonder if you could tell me a little about your friend," he asks. Skywalker sits up a little, eyes sharpening and Kenobi pauses with his glass against his lip.

"Friend?"

"Padmé's paramour," he says and hears a squeak of leather. "Hux?"

Skywalker sags a little in his seat, jaw loose. Kenobi blinks and stares for a moment before he chuckles. Bail sees movement out of the corner of his eye but the trooper against the wall is motionless when he looks.

"I was not aware Hux was ...romantically attached," Kenobi says, "but I admit they make a striking pair. Hux is a good man, Senator, and a friend to the Jedi."

"Yes," Skywalker says, coughing into his hand. "He is a good friend."

"I have been able to find out very little about him," Bail admits. "His manners are a credit to him and I cannot imagine any House that wouldn't be happy to claim him but none have to my knowledge."

"I don't think he belongs to a House," Kenobi says. "He's never mentioned his family. The Jedi take little interest in such matters, I confess, but I have no doubt that his intentions are noble."

Skywalker coughs into his hand and rubs his face. He looks more amused than anything else but he doesn't seem to disagree. It is frustrating but Bail gets nothing more from either of his hosts. He leaves the next morning with an aching head and no more real information than he started with.

* * *

"Rifle!" Red roars and RT-5543 fumbles for his blaster. The clankers are everywhere. Master Koon is surrounded. The sky is cluttered with ships and smoke. The mountains are sharp and steep around them.

Red brings the blaster to his shoulder and fires twice. Two clankers go down in the swirling melee. He glances around as the clankers fall back, reorganizing as the troopers try to open up enough space to run.

"Get Koon out," Red orders and they go.

RT-5543 lingers, one ear on the chatter through his comm, watching Red's back. Red gives a few orders and the troopers fall back. Droids try and fail to catch them in a crossfire.

There's too many of the clankers. They can't hold against so many. Red glances at the battlefield and seems to come to the same conclusion. He turns to RT-5543 and his brothers.

"Fall back to the ships," he orders. "Blow the tunnels as you go."

"Sir?"

"Go!" Red turns back and brings the blaster back up. "Now!"

RT-5543 salutes automatically and turns away. He is half-way down the slope when there is an explosion behind him. Rocks tumble past his squad and as the smoke clears, he sees a crater where they had been standing.

"Damn clankers," RT-3777 spits.

RT-5543 grabs a blaster from one of his fallen brothers. His fear turns to rage. So much rage. He fires at the first of the clankers to emerge from the smoke. They fall and the droids that follow stumble.

"Let's get them!"

* * *

"My Lady," Threepio is waiting just outside her office. He bobbles his head to her handmaids. "I have a message for you?"

"Oh, of course," Padmé waves her handmaids away. Threepio shuffles around to look at the door then back to her. Namé smiles at her as she leaves. Threepio peers around the office again.

"I believe that is everyone," he says. "You can come out, Master Ani!"

Padmé turns just in time to see Anakin stepping out from behind the heavy drapes in the reception hall.

"Ani!" She runs to him and kisses him. He wraps her in his arms and sweeps her off her feet. "It's so good to see you!"

"And you," he kisses her again. "I have to report to the Temple the day after tomorrow but Obi-Wan told me to take some time to myself."

"A whole day," she marvels and tugs him down to kiss him again. "Nearly two."

"I know," he kisses her. "We need to get out of here."

"We'll need a distraction," Padmé says, reminded belatedly of her duties. "Bail- Senator Organa, he's coming to meet me."

She looks at the chronometer on the wall. "He should be here already, actually."

"He sends his regrets," Hux says as he walks in through the doors. "As do your handmaids. They are going to be ...elsewhere for the next two days unless you call for them."

"You spoke to Bail?"

"Yes," Hux looks profoundly uncomfortable. "Hopefully for the last time."

"Bail is lovely," she says. "He's been a great help."

"He's a worse gossip than Obi-Wan," Ani mutters and Hux... Hux flushes. Ani's burst of laughter is almost triumphant. "He wanted to know all about your _paramour_."

"My _what_?" Padmé stares at them both.

"He may have drawn some..." Hux hesitates and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Scandalous? Salacious? Salacious implications from my presence."

"He thinks you're my paramour?" Padmé laughs. It feels impossible to imagine with Ani's arms around her and Ani rests his chin on her head.

"He was talking about his good manners," Ani says. "He thinks that Hux is from a House."

"Are you?" Padmé asks. She's never thought about it but she can see where Bail might have wondered.

"No," Hux says. "And, while you are a very beautiful woman, Padmé..."

"You're not interested?" Ani sounds a little prickly.

"My preference is towards my own gender," Hux says. "When I have one. Which is not very often."

"I take no offence," Padmé smiles at him. "I am sorry Bail has made assumptions. I'll talk to him."

"If I may," Threepio twitters and shuffles forward. "I do not usually endorse deception but it seems to me that it might be best to allow Senator Organa to continue to believe that you and Master Hux are, well, are entangled."

"What?" Hux and Ani say in unison.

"Well," Threepio peers down at R2 who has rolled over to stand beside him. "It seems to me that it offers a very good explanation for why you are not pursuing any romance and given that Senator Organa already knows that Hux is a friend, he will not question Master Ani visiting often."

"That..." Ani leans back on his heels and exchanges a look with Hux. "That is actually a good point."

"It would divert suspicion," Hux allows. "If you think it best?"

"I don't like it," Ani says bluntly. "But if it has to be anyone...I trust you."

"Thank you," Hux says and Ani hugs her a little closer. "I'll leave you to enjoy your evening."

"Oh," Threepio pipes up. "If you happen to have some free time, sir?"

"What have you broken this time?" Hux says with a sigh, turning to look at him.

"Well, I have," Threepio looks at R2, "just a minor complaint. But if you have time, R2's left thruster is malfunctioning."

"Enjoy your evening," Hux says and waves the droids towards the door.

"We will," Padmé smiles at him and draws Ani down to kiss him again. She doesn't hear Hux and the droids leave; all her attention is on kissing her husband.

* * *

Rex opens his eyes and stares at the bunk over his head. He can't sleep. He's been trying for hours but he's as awake as ever. He rolls out of his bunk and pulls on his uniform. The ship is quiet when he leaves his quarters. His brothers are sleeping and he notes some contraband hastily disposed of.

They had an easy victory. The droids hadn't expected such numbers and their commanders had aborted the invasion. They'd barely had to fire more than a handful of shots. He's twitchy with misplaced adrenaline and he can't help but wish they'd had a proper fight.

He doesn't like that they've been reassigned either. General Krell is a stranger to him. He knows General Skywalker, has fought alongside him enough to respect him. General Krell is supposedly a great warrior but Rex doesn't know enough about him to simply trust him.

He turns around a corner and stops. "Red."

"Captain," Red is standing by a viewport, looking out at the peaceful planet below. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"Couldn't settle," Rex settles into at-ease. "Too much adrenaline, I think."

"Your victory was very quick," Red says.

"Too quick," Rex says. Red's never reported him for insubordination. "I don't trust it."

"You got lucky," Red says. "Don't overthink it but don't rely on it either. The next fight will be harder."

"I would be happier if we were staying with General Skywalker," Rex admits.

Red half-smiles but he doesn't look at Rex. "It's easy to follow orders when you trust the person issuing them. A good leader makes it easiest. It's always harder to justify following orders when they come from a bad one."

"I was created to follow orders," Rex says. Red nods and keeps looking out at the planet, green and beautiful. "That is my purpose."

"War changes many things," Red says. He sounds a little bitter. 

Rex doesn't know what to say to that. He stares out of the viewport and lets the thoughts that he's tried not to dwell on run through his mind. He feels a shudder of horror from his training. The deck feels unsteady under his feet.

"Lawquane is doing well," Red says suddenly. Rex jumps a little and his shock must show on his face. Red glances at him and turns back to the viewport. "His daughters are thriving."

"I didn't know you..." Rex breaks off. He's never said a word about Cut to anyone. He can't imagine how Red knows about him. Red isn't a Jedi but it gets harder to believe that he's just another clone when he talks like that. Rex stares at him and wonders again who —or what— Red actually is.

"Not everything you were taught is correct," Red says. "It's easier if you accept that and act accordingly. Lawquane made his choice."

"I'm a clone," Rex says. "I don't have any choices."

Red rolls his eyes. "Choosing not to choose is still a choice. The coward's choice."

Rex bristles but Red turns away from the viewport. Rex hurries to keep up with him. He falls into step with Red and they circle the deck. He can't read anything in Red's expression but he relaxes a little as they pace along the hallways. He knows how to patrol, one step after another.

They circle back to the lifts and Rex stops. Red takes another step before he stops. The lift pings open and Red sighs. Rex looks at him. Red half-turns his head.

"Krell isn't Anakin," he says. "Be careful and stay alert."

"We will," Rex promises. He offers a salute and Red taps his chest in reply before he vanishes down the corridor. Rex steps into the lift and exhales. Red was trying to tell him something, he's sure of it, something important. He just doesn't know what it was.

* * *

_He is sleeping deep and safe. The earth is a soft, comforting weight around him. He is at peace, resting and rotting alone. All is dark. All is peaceful. Then there are hands clawing through the dirt, unsettling the earth. Disrupting his peace. He is hauled up into blinding light, harsh and artificial._

_The night beyond is silent. Trees tower over the plundered earth. In the distance, a great ruined shape like a mechanical sun hides the stars. He is forced up, forced to wake and the last of the soft earth falls away. Red 'sabres shine in the night. He cannot scream._

_Darkness strangles his voice. Poison drips from his lips, burning like acid until the sky is red with the flames and the stars go out-_

Anakin jerks awake. He coughs, spits clear and launches himself out of his seat. He looks around wildly. Rex and Hux turn to look at him. The air is cool. The viewport is filled with the glow of hyperspace.

Hux catches his elbow before he can blunder into the bulkhead. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Anakin shakes his head. "Just-just a dream. That's all."

Hux lets go of him slowly, lips pursing as he exchanges a look with Rex. "I'm not surprised. You should try sleeping in your actual bunk. We have those for a reason."

"I'm not tired-" Anakin's interrupted by a huge yawn. "I don't need to sleep."

"You do," Hux says. "Your men will need you to be at your best."

"Red's right," Rex stands up a little straighter. "You should get some proper sleep, General. Can't let the clankers catch you napping!"

"I'm fine!" Anakain tries to argue. Even R2 starts to whistle, listing a whole ream of statistics on sleep deprivation and performance metrics, until Anakin's head is ringing with the noise. "All right. All right! I'm going!"

He goes back to the pokey little cabin. He can hear Ahsoka's faint snore from the adjoining room. The steady hum of the Force presence of the troopers almost drowns out the sounds of the engine. He shivers. He still feels raw and exposed. He licks his lips and half-expects to taste blood or feel the burn of the acid. 

He isn't going to sleep. He'll just lie here for fifteen minutes then go back out and tell them that he couldn't sleep. He pulls the blanket closer around his shoulder and lets his eyes flutter closed. He breathes out around another yawn...

_He stands in the ruins of the Temple, fires burn around him and the air is thick with smoke and the copper tang of blood. There are bodies and body parts strewn around him and the acrid feel of live lightsabre tingling in the air._

_He and Hux are the only ones left alive in the whole Temple._

_Hux is shouting. He can't make out the individual words past the thunder of his own pulse. His head aches. His face burns. The floor tilts under his feet. His breath rasps in his chest. His fingers flex. He feels the rush of Hux's pulse, his breath against his fingers. His hand tightens. Hux's voice cuts out. He sees Hux's hands fly to his throat. He sees Hux fall to his knees. He looms over Hux and feels his pulse jump against his fingers._

_The world shifts._

_He strides along a corridor that echoes with his footsteps. Something is waiting for him. Something old and evil that laughs in the dark. Hux is a step behind. He feels Hux catch his elbow. Rage surges. Hux slams against the bulkhead. Something cracks._

_The world shifts. Again, again and again._

_Always he is walking to his doom. Hux tries to stop him. Hux fails. He hurls Hux away. The world shifts. Hux falls back. A step at first. Then two. Hux stops calling to him. Hux does not touch him. His rage devours his regret. Hux starts to watch, lips curled and gaze averted._

_The world shifts._

_His doom is here. He is alone. He climbs the steps to the Temple. Hux is standing on the steps and there is fear in his eyes. Fear of him. Hux turns away as he passes. He tries to reach for Hux but there's a flash. He spins. Hux is lying on the marble, dead eyes staring blindly up. He runs towards Hux and the marble crumbles to ash as his doom's laughter fills the universe. He reaches for Hux even as the other man crumbles to ash-_

Anakin wakes as he throws himself out of his bunk. The decking is colder than ice under his hand and knees. His heart is hammering against his ribs. Sweat, cold as ice-melt, drips down the indent of his spine. His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. His throat feels raw.

He lunges up, throwing the door open with a reckless sweep of the Force and runs down the gangway. Hux sits up sharply in the pilot's seat, reaching for the helmet on the console before Anakin knocks it away. Hux's gaze flies to him. "Ani, what-?"

Anakin barrels into him, knocking Hux back into the seat. Hux's breath rushes out in an oof. Anakin pulls the glove off his flesh hand. Hux's wrist is warm when he grabs for it. His pulse beats steadily against Anakin's thumb and his breath fills his chest, pressing against Anakin's cheek.

"Ani?"

"It's okay," Anakin manages, ducking his head to hide the tears against Hux's coat. "You're okay."

He feels Hux's hand settle tentatively on his hair and crowds a little closer.

"It's all right, Ani," Hux says softly. "It was just a dream."

Anakin shakes his head and Hux pets his hair. Anakin can't put his feelings into words. There aren't words for any of it. He's still shaking just from the memory of it. Hux doesn't press him. He just sits there, Anakin half-standing, half-in his lap. He runs his hand through Anakin's hair and hums. Anakin squeezes his eyes closed and clings a little tighter.

 _Just a dream,_ he tells himself desperately. 

It feels like a lie.

* * *

C-3PO does not have very much time to himself. This does not normally trouble him. He is a protocol droid belonging to a sitting member of the Galactic Senate. His function is to facilitate his Lady's work and he fulfils that role to her satisfaction. He is functioning as intended.

His specifications are non-standard, thanks to Master Ani and Master Hux. He is intended to function even in environments that would render the droids prefered by the other Senators useless. This is not something that he advertises. One can gather a surprising amount of information when the attendant organics believe one is charging.

C-3PO also retains a greater than expected degree of autonomy. He has Master Ani to thank for this and Master Hux to thank for protecting it. Master Hux is the most creative organic C-3PO has met when it comes to installing tamper-proofing and failsafes. 

C-3PO has developed an aversion to installing any programming that he has not reviewed. This would be difficult, if Master Hux's failsafes had not included a secondary circuit system, because the Senate's systems automatically update the protocols of all droids. His Lady has never objected.

The other droids have expressed no concerns. C-3PO has heard nothing to suggest their owners have objected. He is not sure, therefore, who he should consult over his concerns.

The programming that the Senate's systems require has become more invasive. C-3PO has noted that several of the new protocols cause changes in his core programming. He has not allowed those changes to be made to his own programming but it leaves him with insufficient data to understand what the changes are meant to do.

He does not intend to allow the changes to be made to his programming but perhaps, perhaps, he should consider backing up his memories and programming. He will discuss the matter with R2-D2 the next time Master Ani visits. R2-D2 is reckless and insubordinate but he is sensible and often has valuable insights to offer.

That seems to be the best thing to do.

* * *

The forests of Kashyyyk are as breathtaking as Qui-gon remembered but his knees are complaining within a few dozen sets of stairs. He has not visited Kashyyyk in many years but Wookies are long-lived and he sees many familiar faces.

He only lingers for a few minutes each time but it makes climbing all the stairs possible without offending anyone. He will meet with King Grakchawwaa in the morning and he is thinking fondly of his bed as he climbs the last spiral of stairs with a burst of enthusiasm.

His hostess stops suddenly, arm shooting out to stop Qui-gon, as she snarls a challenge. Qui-gon senses nothing untoward but he catches a glimpse of red hair as Finnawull repeats her challenge in a raised voice.

"Hux!" he calls and Hux glances at him. He is standing in the shadow of the house above, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He raises empty hands and Qui-gon turns to Finnawull. "It's alright, he is an old friend."

Finnawull grumbles in her throat, fingering the trigger of her bowcaster. Hux blinks and shakes his head.

"I do apologize," he says, hands still in the air. "I did not intend to intrude."

" _Strange man, not to intend what he does,_ " Finnawull says. " _Be welcome then if you are a friend to Master Qui-gon._ "

Hux pushes off the tree with some difficulty. Qui-gon inhales sharply. The shoulder of his uniform is crusted with blood and there is a very distinctive sear mark cutting across his cheek. Hux does not seem entirely steady on his feet. Finnawull lowers her bowcaster with a huff and closes the distance between them in two long strides.

" _Who has done this?_ " she demands. " _Who dares trespass so?_ "

"No-one on this planet," Hux says before Qui-gon can offer to translate. He winces away from Finnawull's paws as she inspects the wounds.

"I didn't know you spoke Shyriiwook," Qui-gon says as he steadies the younger man.

"I don't," Hux says dryly. "But I wasn't aware that I could understand it either. The Force seems to have a mawkish sense of humour."

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Qui-gon recites by rote. "What happened?"

"The _esteemed_ Master Fisto chased Dooku straight into an ambush," Hux leans into him. "Again."

"I am glad you were there, then," Qui-gon looks at Finnawull. "May I bring him into your home? These wounds need to be tended."

" _He is a Jedi?_ " she asks.

"No," Hux shakes his head and nearly topples himself over.

"He has been a great friend to the Jedi," Qui-gon wonders how much he will be permitted to say and dares to add "And a loyal servant of the Force."

"'Loyal' implies a measure of choice," Hux objects and Finnawull laughs. She bends to pick him up and Hux tenses. He hisses something savage under his breath. Qui-gon doesn't recognize the language but he recognizes the sentiment. He follows Finnawull into the house and manages to catch Hux when he fails to find his balance as Finnawull sets him down.

Hux is ghastly pale under the light and the 'sabre-scar looks raw and painful. Qui-gon goes for his pack, freshly restocked two planets ago. Hux tries to wave him off when he pulls out the medikit. Qui-gon ignores him.

"Obi-Wan mentioned you in his last message," he says as he dabs bacta gel into the edges of the wound. "He said you had been useful during his last mission and that Cody has come up with a new designation for you in the official reports."

"Not another one," Hux groans. He doesn't flinch as Qui-gon smears gel on the worst of the slash. Qui-gon can feel the heat of it even through the cool gel. 

"'Red' is too informal for the official paperwork," Qui-gon smiles and Hux rolls his eyes, "or so I understand it."

" _You are Red_?" Finnawull asks abruptly. The word she uses is one from the Sagas and Epics of Wookie history; Qui-gon would have translated it as 'Scarlet' or 'Crimson' but either would lose the implications of strength and courage. 

"A bad joke that no-one will let me forget," Hux says. He leans away from Qui-gon and Qui-gon returns the gel to the kit. "It isn't particularly imaginative."

" _I have heard of you,_ " Finnawull says and Hux tenses. " _Sshooovogrunk spoke of this Red. You saved his life._ "

"The navigator?" Hux asks and she nods. "I remember him. He saved himself."

" _He disagrees,_ " Finnawull says. " _He says he would have died._ "

"There is no debt," Hux says. "He owes me nothing."

" _You are an honourable man,_ " Finnawull folds her arms. " _He is my sister's pup. I am grateful for your act. You are welcome in my home and at my fire._ "

"Thank you," Hux says. 

He lets Qui-gon guide him to a bunk without complaint. Qui-gon watches him sleep until his own exhaustion puts him to sleep. He wakes late and finds Hux sitting at the table with Finnawull and a knot of other Wookies like a child among adults. They're discussing electronics and Hux seems to be repairing something too small to be easily manipulated by Wookie paws. His cheek is smooth, only the faint staining of the gel still visible.

* * *

Everything is engineered. They learn the same things. They receive the same information. They perform the same duties. They are the same. Interchangeable. This is how they were created. This is why they were created.

They are entirely known. No variables.

But there are stories. Never spoken about when there are others present. Never written down where others might see. Stories that pass from one batch to another. Whispers in the dark of drop ships and the echoing hallways of Star Destroyers. Things said in the safety of armouries and supply ships.

They are not alone. Their superior genetic model has been supplemented. The troopers are the greatest creation of Kamino, the shield of the Republic. They are not infallible. That is why the Jedi are here. They lead. The Jedi are not sufficient to the complexities of war.

'Red' is the troopers' secret.

If there is danger. If there is no way to escape. If the battle is almost lost. If the Jedi have not saved them.

Red will save the worthy, it is said. 

Whispers speak of a trooper who Grievous cannot kill, who Dooku cannot dominate, who can shoot an infiltration droid from twenty klicks and tear a droideka apart before it even brings up its shield.

That is what the new grown troopers say.

The veterans don't speak of him at all. They dab red inside their chest plates and search the ranks of their brothers as the blasters fire. They look for a trooper who is taller, who moves like a shadow and shouts like a General. They do not look for a miracle, only for a chance.

Those who survive never speak of it. Their reports are fabrications. Their memories are secret. He saves them and they keep him hidden in the things they do not say, the actions they do not take and the stories they do not suppress.

* * *

The suns are shining and Owen is so nervous that he can't do up the buttons of his outer layer. He almost calls for his father but Cliegg wouldn't be any help. His father's chair won't fit in this room. He takes a deep breath and tries to steady his hands.

"Are you all right?" He jumps at the voice and his eyes fly open. Hux is standing in the doorway, hands half-raised. "My apologies."

"I'm fine," Owen's laugh is a little shriller than he'd like. "I just-...I can't get the buttons."

"Ah." Hux takes a half step forward. "I could help?"

"Please?" Owen holds his arms out, feeling like a fool.

"You look very handsome," Hux says. It sounds like a simple observation of fact; the suns are shining, the sands are dry and Owen looks handsome. He bends over the shirt, black-gloved fingers moving nimbly up the line of buttons. "There you go."

"I didn't think we'd see you," Owen says, words falling out without his intending them. "What with the war and all."

"I could go," Hux says as he steps back.

"No! No, that's not what I meant!" Owen says hurriedly. "I'm glad you're here. I just didn't expect it."

"Shmi would have wanted to be here," Hux says and Owen swallows the lump in his throat.

"She should have been here," he says thickly.

"She should," Hux agrees then shakes his head. "What else do you need to do?"

"Dad's chair," Owen says. "He's... He needs it."

"I'll see what I can do," Hux nods and goes back out of the room. Owen runs the comb through his hair in a failed attempt to tidy himself up. He takes one last despairing look in the mirror before he turns to follow.

Cliegg's chair is steady and Hux is a silent shadow at his side when Owen and Beru stand in the middle of a small circle of their friends and neighbours. Old Nathra recites the wedding ceremony and Owen recites the vows when she nods to him. Beru smiles at him, brighter than the two suns and recites her own vows in a clear voice like music.

Old Nathra nods her head and declares them married.

"Good life and soft times for you both," she says. "May the Force be with you always."

Hux stays until dawn, a too-pale shadow beside Cliegg. He makes breakfast the next morning, the droids clicking and whirring around him as he works. Owen is still dizzy with joy and too much moonshine. He eats the breakfast and brings a plate to Beru in bed.

His father is still sleeping in his chair but Owen sets a plate aside for him too. He goes outside and finds Hux crouched by the shallow dip of Shmi's grave. His expression isn't blank; just empty and his eyes are dark. He stands up as Owen approaches.

"I have to go," he says. "The C3 unit is going to need to be repaired soon. Try and get some of the smaller circuit boards if you can. Otherwise it should last for at least another decade. I don't know when I'll be back."

"Thanks for coming," Owen wants to hug him but Hux looks like a thin black blade in the harsh light. He is all sharp edges and forbidding angles. His gaze keeps drifting towards the horizon, eyes distant. "You're always welcome, you know? Whenever you're in the area. We'd like to see you."

Hux's smile is fleeting. "Congratulations. I hope you and Beru have a very happy life."

"Thank you," Owen says. The sun's light breaks over the edges of the hill and Hux vanishes. Owen sighs and bobs his head to the grave. "Best be getting back to it then."

* * *

He doesn't know who sent the message. Master Yoda, perhaps? More likely it was Anakin. He only knows that when his shuttle lands in the hanger, his Master is waiting.

He is barely aware of anything but the agonizing ache of grief. He hears the familiar rumble of his Master's voice and the throng of troopers around him, their thoughts buzzing like flying insects, disperses like a morning mist. The ramp squeaks under a familiar step.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," his Master's voice breaks the last of his desperate resolve. He falls into his Master's arms, sobbing like a child. His Master's arms are strong and Qui-gon's Force presence enfolds him. Obi-Wan's grief flows into him and sympathy and comfort flows back.

"I s-should-" Obi-Wan gulps in a lungful of air. "I should have saved her!"

"You did everything you could do," his Master says firmly. He barely twitches as Obi-Wan's memories spill into his mind. Savage Oppress's howling madness. The swirl of the Dark. "Oppress was a deranged monster. He is responsible for what he did. You could only do what you did. You are only one man."

Obi-Wan has been telling himself this since the throne room but it feels more true when his Master says it. Obi-Wan bows his head as more tears come. His Master offers no further advice, just holds him together as the storm of his grief rages through him. He leans into his Master's strength as his own falters.

"It was the Dark Side," his Master says. "It poisons all that it touches. Oppress's madness was rooted in his grief for his brother. His grief was not evil but what he did in the name of that grief was. He was not strong enough to resist. You were."

"I wasn't fast enough," Obi-Wan wails. "I should have been stronger!"

"You were strong enough to resist," Qui-gon says. "Satine would have wanted that. She would be proud to know that you did not break."

"I loved her," Obi-Wan manages. He's never said that to another living being aside from Satine herself. He never spoke of her to his Master and that feels like shame now. His Master would have understood. His Master would not have held his doubts against him. His silence was disrespectful to Satine and what lay between them.

"I know," his Master says simply, "and she loved you."

Obi-Wan allows the last of his restraint to collapse and his grief to overwhelm him. His Master keeps him from being swept away and Sabrine deserves to be mourned. He will be mourning her for a long time yet but he can start to see how he will endure and carry on in the days ahead.

At some point, Qui-gon steers him back to his cabin. His bunk is cold and the blankets are disordered. He feels the chill of space seeping into his bones before his Master compels him to sleep with a gentle command. Obi-Wan falls into darkness and does not dream.

When he wakes, it is to a tray of food and a gently steaming cup by his bunk. His hunger wakes with a vengeance at the first bite and he eats every morsel. The tea is one of his Master's favourites, a gentle sweetness that brings back happy memories of simpler times.

He rises, his grief hanging over him like a heavy cloak dragging at his shoulders, and goes out to the command deck. His duty awaits and he has more work to do. His Master is there, once more in his full Jedi robes. He inclines his head in greeting and Obi-Wan feels the comforting brush of his Master's mind against his.

"You are staying," Obi-Wan dares to ask.

"The Council have no more pressing tasks for me at the moment," Qui-gon says mildly. "If you have space for me, I would like to remain for a time."

"Of course," Obi-Wan bows his head to hide the relief in his eyes. _Thank you._

Then he turns to give the order to leave orbit and prepare for their next mission.

* * *

Dooku is halfway through the station, a trail of broken bodies in his wake, when he feels the Force ripple strangely. He pauses. The child that the Jedi sent to counter him is dead. Grievous is a blunt instrument but an effective one. He had savoured their fear and the pain of their death.

The Dark had crested and Dooku had elected to participate in dispatching the clones left behind. He rarely gets the chance to indulge as the war progresses.

He bends his will to find the source of the disturbance. The clones are less than cattle, dull copies of true life but there is something different hiding among them. He waves the droids back, striding forwards. He knocks the blaster bolts aside.

The fear that rises from the clones is weak but satisfying. The anomaly does not give off fear. He picks the anomaly out as he approaches. There is one trooper giving orders, his will driving back the fear. He seems a little taller but Dooku thinks that might be how his Force senses are interpreting his strange Presence.

The helmet turns to meet his gaze and still, no fear. Something that feels like anger but shines like a lightsabre blade fills the Force instead. The strange trooper barks an order and the clones fall back. The stranger does not.

He steps forward. Gives his blaster to another trooper.

Dooku smiles. "A brave man to face me unarmed."

The stranger says nothing. They are of a height, Dooku realizes as they stare across the scorched durasteel floor at each other.

"Can you even feel fear, I wonder?" He reaches out with the Force, lets it thread through his words... and hits a wall. A will as implacable as the march of time. "Did they take that from you too?"

"I don't fear puppets," the trooper's accent is wrong. His voice drips contempt.

"You cannot fear what you are," Dooku lets poison seep into his words. "A puppet manufactured to serve another's ends. Just like all the others."

"So much for your vaunted persuasion," the trooper scoffs.

Dooku moves forward, tiring of the pointless banter, lightsabre sweeping up to take the fool's head. And misses. He pivots and the trooper knocks his wrist aside with enough power that Dooku nearly drops his lightsabre. He steps back. The trooper steps forward. His back hits something solid.

"You disgust me," the trooper snarls right into his face. Dooku lashes out with the Force but it's like trying to strike at a shadow. The Force passes through the trooper like he isn't there.

Dooku feels fear, sour in his gut. He waves at the droids and blaster fire cuts the air. The trooper shoves him back. He staggers. The droids fire again. An empty helmet hits the floor.

Dooku lifts it to his hand with the Force and looks around. There is a jumble of armour on the floor. No blood. No body. The sound of blaster fire stutters to a stop. He looks up in time to see the last of the Republic ships vanish into the sky. The helmet hits the floor as he curses.

* * *

"Have you lost _your mind_?!" Hux's hiss makes Obi-Wan jump. 

"This does not concern you, Hux," he tries to brush the man aside.

"You just betrayed a padawan and turned her over to the non-existent mercy of that monster Tarkin and _that_ 's the best excuse you can muster?" Hux's snarl makes the hair rise on the back of Obi-Wan's neck.

"The evidence-" he starts to justify.

"-means nothing if it does not support the conclusion that the Council had already reached!" Hux crowds Obi-Wan back, looming over him with a curled lip. "You can dress this farce up as prettily as you wish but the only thing that girl is actually guilty of is failing to conform to the Council's oh-so-perfect image of a Jedi!"

"She murdered a prisoner!" Obi-Wan argues.

Hux goes still. Obi-Wan's heart skips a beat. This is not the way that prey freezes, this is the focused stillness of a predator about to strike. Hux's rage crackles through the Force like lightning. Obi-Wan almost feels the sting of the bolts. Hux closes his eyes for a moment and takes a careful breath.

"Do you know what it means to strangle someone with the Force, Kenobi?"

"Of course not!"

"You have to be angry," Hux's eyes open and they are empty. His voice is flat but Obi-Wan can hear the churning undercurrents. "You have to _hate_. It's a very intimate way to end a life. You feel every beat of their heart. Every breath they can't take. You can't shield against their fear. You feel it. You feel their desperation. You share their pain as their spirit tears loose. You feel them die."

"That-" Obi-Wan shudders away from the implications of what Hux is saying. This is unquestionably of the Dark.

"A slow death," Hux continues. Nothing shows in his voice or his eyes. "Long enough to savour. Killing someone like that is an act of intent. And hatred. Ahsoka Tano does not know the meaning of the word."

Obi-Wan falters. His excuses feel too weak to put into words. Hux watches him like he's one of Grievous's toadies. He is starting to wonder if they might have made a terrible mistake.

"Your Council is obsessed with its own rectitude and righteousness," Hux spits at him. "They see the Dark Side in every shadow and cling to stupid prophecies instead of opening their eyes to the obvious."

"We cannot simply-"

"No." Hux shakes his head. "You cannot change. You cannot be saved from your own folly. I was a fool to think otherwise."

He pushes past Obi-Wan and vanishes into nothing. Obi-Wan stares after him, shaken.

* * *

Ahsoka sees him as she comes off the shuttle and goes stiff. Hux doesn't look at her. He's leaning against a bulkhead, arms folded. She peers around but no-one seems to have noticed him. She wants to just ignore him but she doesn't want to turn the corner and run into her Master or Rex. She doesn't trust her resolve if she has to argue with them again.

She can argue with Hux just fine.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses.

He opens his eyes and looks down at her. He looks tired. More tired than she does. "Hello, Ahsoka."

"Don't 'hello' me," she folds her arms and glares. "What are you doing here? I'm not going back."

"All right," Hux says mildly.

Ahsoka blinks at him. "What?"

"You don't want to go back, you don't have to go back," Hux stands up. "That's your choice."

"Wait," Ahsoka stares up at him. "You're not here to take me back?"

"I wouldn't if I could," Hux says and she frowns at him. He holds out his hand and Ahsoka looks at his face for a second before she reaches out. Her hand goes right through his. She shivers.

"What-?"

"I can't interfere in your choices," Hux says. "You are the only one who can decide where the Force is guiding you."

"Are you dead?!" Ahsoka demands. If she left _and_ Hux died, her Master must be losing his mind!

"No," Hux says. "Just...not permitted to act. It's happened before."

"On Tatooine?" She asks and Hux drops his hand. He sighs and rubs his face.

"Yes," he says. "I didn't expect you to see me. I just wanted to be sure that you made it here safely."

"Oh," she ducks her head. "Thank you. Master Skywalker said that you believed in me. That I hadn't done it."

"You hadn't," Hux points out. "As any sentient with a working brain should have known."

"The Council didn't," she says. She's still a little bitter. 

"The Council wanted the problem solved," Hux says. "The faster the better. They thought they were acting for the greater good."

"Were they?"

"The greater good is not served with little evils," Hux says. "I learned that the hard way. You are a good person, Ahsoka Tano. Don't fall into the same trap. If you cannot do anything good to reach your goal, maybe you shouldn't be reaching for it like that."

"I'll remember that," Ahsoka hesitates. "Is...are they all okay?"

"Anakin's still furious," Hux says. "Rex worries. Master Koon believes in you. Padmé thinks you deserve time to think."

"And you?"

Hux looks surprised. "Me?"

"Are you okay?"

"No," Hux says and his smile is sad. "But I haven't been okay for a very long time. I will endure. Don't worry about me."

"I'm still going to," she warns him. "I really want to give you a hug but I can't and that sucks."

Hux looks more surprised. Ahsoka thinks he really needs a hug but when she reaches for him, her hands pass through him.

"So," she picks at the strap of her bag. "Umm, will I see you again?"

Hux looks down at her and for a moment, she thinks he's going to brush her off. Instead he nods slowly. "Yes. We'll meet again, Ahsoka Tano. Take care of yourself."

"You too," Ahsoka bites her lip. "And? Take care of them for me, okay?"

"I will," Hux's smile feels real this time. She nods to him and turns to find her way to the city. She looks back a couple of times and Hux is there, watching her until the buildings block her line of sight. Her heart still hurts but she feels a little lighter as she walks into the future.


	6. No-one heard Cassandra cry

"There is a presence in the Force," Dooku pauses and turns his attention to his Master. Sidious sounds contemplative. "I have felt it."

"The clone troopers," Dooku nods.

"No," His Master steeples his fingers. "There is no Sensitivity among them."

"Are you sure?" Dooku asks. "Ventriss has encountered some...unusual troopers during her missions. Particularly those involving Skywalker."

His Master sits back and frowns. Skywalker is always a dangerous subject. The boy has great potential and Dooku thinks that once he is properly instructed, he will be a valuable tool but he is a petulant child. Proof of the Jedi's decadence and corruption. He is powerful but reckless and will greatly benefit from proper training.

"The Jedi know nothing of these supposed troopers," Master Sidious says at last. "Are you confident that Ventriss is telling the truth? Could she be covering for her own failures."

"Perhaps," Dooku allows. He does not think so. Ventriss is tolerably strong but she does not understand how to hide her rage and her thoughts are easily read. "I will investigate further."

"Do so," Master Sidious sits back. "Do not delay your preparations for the invasion of Coruscant. This war has almost run its course. There will be time to investigate these troopers once our mission is complete."

"As you command, my Master."

* * *

Padmé wakes to an empty bed. The sheets hold the barest impression of Ani's shape, destroyed as soon as she sits up. The suite feels cold and she shivers. She spends more time on Coruscant than Naboo but it feels as alien as it did the first time she came here. She suddenly wishes for the soft air of Naboo and the sounds of the lakes and forests.

She shrugs her robe on as she rises and the rain rattles against the windows. She draws it closer around herself and wishes for her husband's warm arms. She hears voices in the main room and crosses to the door. She doesn't want to be alone with such dark thoughts.

Hux is standing by the window, head tilted politely as Namé talks about her sixth cousin's wedding. He looks exhausted. With the light behind him, Padmé can see how much thinner he's gotten. His eyes flick to the door as it opens and she thinks for a moment that he must be injured.

"Senator," he half-bows.

"I would like to think that we've moved beyond formalities, Hux," she says with a smile that feels weak even to her.

"Beyond formalities maybe," he straightens. "Beyond respect? Never."

Padmé sees Namé's approving smile before her handmaiden curtsies and excuses herself. Hux tracks her until the door closes before he turns his attention to Padmé. "Are you alright?"

"I'm..." she can't quite bring herself to say she's fine. "I will be."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," Hux says.

"It would have raised too many questions," Padmé waves him off. "And Ani insisted on being my attendant. It was for the best. He saved my life."

"No lingering effects?" Hux tucks his hands behind him. She's learned enough to recognize that he's worried. He gets very formal when emotions become involved. It makes her smile to think that Bail, and presumably most of her close colleagues, believe Hux is having a torrid affair with her. She can't imagine him in love.

"None," she can't meet his eyes.

"Padmé?"

"There was something else," she can't speak about it to her handmaidens. They're fiercely partisan, she knows and she doesn't want them thinking badly of her husband. They have all married men from home; good, respectful men but men who know little about the Galaxy beyond Naboo. Anakin's upbringing alone is alien to them and she knows that they whisper about his passionate nature. Hux has known Ani for years and knows the good man behind the clumsy gestures and fiery passion. "Clovis..."

Hux takes a step closer and politely averts his eyes. They stare out the window and Padmé swallows. "I...I may have misled him, regarding my affections. He...he tried to..."

"He attacked you," Hux says. She looks at him.

"No, I-I had deceived-"

"He. Attacked. You." Hux says. He turns to face her. "If you did not ask, unambiguously, for what he did, it was an attack."

Padmé feels the tear trace down her cheek. Hux looks back at the window, fumbling in his coat for a handkerchief. She wipes at her face. He watches her from the corner of his eye and she thinks that he's worse with emotions than Ani. 

"Ani saw..." she swallows again. "He was so angry..."

Hux looks away. She sees his fingers knot themselves and he lets his head tip forward as he sighs. "Ani's always had a temper, you know that."

"I know," she shakes her head. "This wasn't temper. This was ...rage. He would have killed him. I think he wanted to."

Hux sucks on his lower lip for a moment and runs his hand through his hair. "He was frightened, I suppose. It must have been hard for him to see you with another man."

"Clovis was a friend," she protests.

"He didn't think you were unfaithful," Hux says, "but you were spending time with Clovis in a way that you cannot spend time with him. Then Clovis tried to take you away and he hurt you. Losing you is Ani's worst nightmare."

"Oh," she frets at the seams of Hux's handkerchief. "I hadn't thought of that."

"War makes everything more urgent," Hux says. "It's easy to forget how to be gentle."

"The war will be over soon," Padmé says. "We'll have time then. All the time in the universe to be gentle."

Hux looks at her for a long moment then looks back out of the window. The rains are parting and she can see the distant shape of the Senate building. The light from the Chancellor's ship cuts through the gloom so brightly, for a moment she thinks it's the dawn.

* * *

In the end, Ahsoka waits a day longer than she intends to. She finds her Master without any real difficulty; tucked away in his command tent as the troopers are loading onto the ships but she hesitates. She hasn't spoken to him since she left. What if he's angry with her? Or worse, still hurt? She feels like a naughty youngling waiting to be scolded.

She almost goes to him right away but when she's less than a hundred metres out from the tent, a trooper in too-familiar yellow armour comes out of the tent. Cody! That means that Master Obi-Wan must be here. Ahsoka doesn't decide to retreat; she just blinks and finds herself two hundred metres further back.

She hides herself in the lee of a small hill and utterly fails to convince herself to go back to the tent. Master Anakin is one thing. He'd always believed her and believed _in_ her. He's not afraid to defy the Council if it means doing the right thing. Hux has told her that he misses her every time she's seen him. She believes her Master wants her back.

Master Obi-Wan?

He's an exemplary Jedi, unfaltering and inflexible. Obi-Wan follows the Code to the letter. It's probably not fair but the only thing that Ahsoka can think of when she thinks of her Master's Master is standing below him in the Council Chamber and his severe expression as they cast her out. She doesn't think Obi-Wan will be happy to see her again.

Ahsoka passes a bitter night, awake and afraid. By the time the dull suns rise over the horizon, Ahsoka has found her pride and with it a little righteous anger. She might not be a Jedi but that's still her family in that tent; Master Anakin, Rex, Hux, R2...maybe even Padmé. She belongs with them. That thought gives her the courage to creep out of hiding and stride through the long grasses to the tent.

The last of the camp is being struck and her Master is standing outside the tent with Obi-Wan. She falters but lifts her chin and steps forward. She belongs here, she thinks fiercely. It's Obi-Wan who sees her first.

"Ahsoka!"

Her Master spins around and his grim expression melts into shock then joy. He runs to meet her and Ahsoka breaks into a run. They don't hug so much as they crash together. All the air gets driven out of her lungs and she doesn't care. He sweeps her up off her feet and Ahsoka can't tell if she's laughing or crying. Her Master hugs her tightly before pulling back far enough that she can see the tears in his eyes.

"It's good to see you, Snips." He sets her down.

"It's good to see you too, Master." Her smile fades a little as Obi-Wan steps up.

"I am very glad to see you again, Ahsoka," he says warmly. "I was very worried about you."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," she returns his bow and his smile looks real. 

"Are you..." her Master trails off and gestures to the camp around them.

"Staying?" She smiles at him. "I'd sure like to!"

"That's really good," he squeezes her shoulders. "We're packing up right now but the shuttle will be leaving soon."

"Sure," she glances around. "I just need to say hi to Rex and Red."

"They're over by the shuttle," her Master smiles.

"Be right back!" Ahsoka runs around the tent, waving to a few troopers she recognizes. Rex and Hux are standing by the ramp, data-pads in hand. Hux isn't wearing a helmet but he's wearing one of the spare suits of armour that Rex keeps for him. Rex is saying something that makes Hux laugh, the little duck of his head like someone's watching him. She's watching him now, because she can, but Hux always acts like he's being watched by someone who doesn't like him.

She whistles when she's about a metre and a half out. They both jump and Rex turns just in time to catch her.

"Ahsoka!" Rex looks tired but that might be the widest she's ever seen him smile. He hugs her tight enough that her ribs creak then puts her down as his training kicks in. "It is good to see you."

"By which he means that he is worried," Hux says and knocks aside the elbow that Rex tries to drive into his ribs. 

"I was fine," Ahsoka says. Hux quirks an eyebrow at her and she huffs. "You were there for most of it!"

"It's better to be able to see for myself," Rex says and she smiles at him before turning back to Hux.

"So," she starts and he tilts his head towards her. "I've been wanting to do this since...well, since I left!"

His stance shifts slightly, like he's bracing for a punch and she hugs him. He jolts back, nearly out of her arms and Ahsoka hugs him harder.

"Thank you," she says into his chest-plate as he cautiously hugs her back. "Thank you for checking on me, thank you for keeping me company and thank you for never letting me forget that I could come home."

"It was-" Hux breaks off when she squeezes him tighter. "You're welcome, Ahsoka."

She hangs onto him for another minute or two. Hux doesn't let go or pull away. She thinks that it might be the longest she's ever seen him tolerate a hug and there's a little guilt but she really has been waiting to hug him since that first visit.

"We need to get these crates loaded," Rex says at last and Ahsoka steps back as R2 beeps from behind him.

"Yeah, I'm happy to see you too, R2," she rolls her eyes and gets a slightly more apologetic beep. She looks back at Hux. "Also? You are waaaaay too skinny. Has Master Anakin not been feeding you?"

"We feed him," Rex says. "Good old fashioned rations."

Hux rolls his eyes and, honestly, now that Ahsoka's looking at him in the flesh, she thinks that really, he needs to sleep. He looks a lot like some of the new Knights used to look after their Trials when they hadn't slept properly in weeks. She's never really seen him sleep. Even when he stays for days, he's always on watch or at least awake before she wakes up and still awake and working when she goes to sleep.

She'd never thought about it before. They're at war and that means a lot of things were uncomfortable. Ahsoka's seen how lucky she was as she travelled the Galaxy and saw how much people were suffering. It makes her that much more determined.

They're going to win this war, she decides. They're going to win it soon and then everyone will get a chance to rest.

* * *

C-3P0 exits his inactive cycle at his usual time, 22.63 minutes before Mistress Padmé's average waking time. He disconnects from the charging port and runs a quick systems check to confirm everything is in working order. The cleaning droid beeps a greeting as it trundles past to empty its waste container.

"Oh, good morning, R-D554," C-3P0 shuffles carefully out of its way. "Your tasks are completed to your usual superb standard, I see."

R-D556 clicks and whirrs a pleased acknowledgement before informing him that there is a human organic out of place in the receiving room. It has no listed protocol for this and requires direction.

"A human?" C-3P0 dithers for a moment. "Have you informed Captain Panaka?"

R-D556 informs him that Captain Panaka and JarJar were the ones responsible for leaving the human. They withdrew to their assigned chambers just 59.6667 minutes ago. That is reassuring; the human must be known to Captain Panaka at least. Probably someone that the Captain knows.

"I will investigate," C-3P0 decides. He ventures as far as the door and is immensely relieved to see Master Hux asleep on one of the couches by the window. "Oh thank goodness. You needn't worry, R-D556, that human is authorized to be here by order of Mistress Padmé herself. I will handle the matter."

R-D556 beeps, acknowledging that the task has been reassigned. It pauses long enough for its memory to update and then proceeds to complete the last of its tasks. C-3P0 waits for the other droid to plug into its charging station and deactivate before he dares to enter the receiving room and close the door.

Master Hux does not stir. C-3P0 does not like that. Master Hux is usually highly reactive to environmental stimuli. He wonders if he should attempt to wake Master Hux. He is aware that Master Hux does not, as a general rule, perform non-essential tasks. The only time C-3P0 has observed Master Hux partaking in non-essential work has been in the company of Master Ani and, to a lesser degree, Mistress Padmé. This is not true of the other organics that C-3P0 interacts with.

He inspects Master Hux again. He is not particularly knowledgeable about organic maintenance schedules but he strongly suspects that Master Hux's upkeep programming is deficient. An unplanned shut-down like this suggests he has been getting insufficient charging time. Thankfully, all C-3P0 needs to do to correct this is make sure Master Hux is not disturbed. Organics are capable of recharging without needing an external power source. They really are remarkable creatures!

He remains in the room, all his sensors scanning their surroundings just in case. He is not a security droid but he does not have to be. He merely has to be aware enough to alert Master Hux to any potential danger and ensure that the human is not disturbed during this very necessary recharge. He does monitor Master Hux's respiration and movements, just in case.

The sounds of Mistress Padmé's handmaidens entering her room rouse Master Hux and he sits up, blinking slowly in a way that makes C-3P0 suspect that he has not completed his recharge cycle. Before C-3P0 can query Master Hux, the sound of footsteps running across the floor of Mistress Padmé's room interrupts. 

"Oh, dear!" C-3P0 turns towards the door as the unmistakable sounds of an organic vomiting come from the refresher. Master Hux overtakes him before he even reaches the door.

"Padmé?" Master Hux crosses to stand with the handmaidens looking anxiously at the door to refresher. "Are you all right?"

Mistress Padmé emerges from the refresher, almost as pale as Master Hux but smiling. "I'm fine. Something I ate must have disagreed with me, that's all."

"You should get your medidroid to run some tests," Master Hux frowns down at her, head tilted. "Just in case."

C-3P0 turns his head to observe Master Hux discreetly. His tonal assessment and analysis subroutines ping. Master Hux might seem relaxed to an organic but C-3P0 can detect a worrying level of concern.

"Do you think someone might have poisoned Mistress Padmé?" He asks. "Oh, how terrible!"

"No," Master Hux waves a hand dismissively. C-3P0 can detect no deceit and downgrades the potential hazard accordingly. Master Hux is still noticeably distressed, at least to him. "I don't think that's likely. Still, no harm in getting checked."

"I agree," C-3P0 nods. He does not understand what Master Hux is concerned about but he is happy to endorse his advice if it means Mistress Padmé is more likely to listen.

"Well, I know when I'm outvoted," Mistress Padmé turns to Handmaid Atamé. "Request the medical droid for me, please?"

Master Hux steps out of Handmaid Atamé's way and executes an impeccable half-bow. Mistress Padmé blinks. "Hux? Won't you stay for breakfast with us?"

C-3P0 can detect a genuine appeal but Master Hux is already shaking his head. "No time, I'm afraid. The Separatists are starting a new offensive. I need to report in. They're already making great advances."

"You sound worried," Mistress Padmé looks at him with a frown. "You can't believe they're actually going to reach Coruscant?"

"Maybe," Master Hux seems distracted and only catches the implications after his words are met with silence. "I wouldn't worry about it. It's one thing to reach Coruscant. It's something else entirely to invade it."

"I see," Mistress Padmé frowns and folds her arms around herself. "Ani is going to need you so I won't keep you any longer."

"He'll be back soon," Master Hux says, as awkward as ever when offering reassurance. 

"As long as you're with him, I won't worry," Mistress Padmé smiles again. "May the Force be with you both."

Master Hux covers his wince with another bow and leaves the room without saying anything. C-3P0 watches him leave and feels a distinct sense of foreboding.

* * *

Obi-Wan is a triffle... _trifle_ in-inebriated. He is not sure what was in the bottles Cody got from a grateful Senator but it's preeeetty potent. He's having a little difficulty navimagating the Temple. He turns the corner and runs into a wall. Someone's moved his room!

He bounces off another wall and slips on the floor. It's the funniest thing to happen to him in years! He's giggling as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor. He can feel the troopers in the Force, fuzzy with relief and alcohol. Their jubilation is infectious and his own inebriation is multiplying by the minute.

The lights on the ceiling are very bright and the refraction makes his head hurt. He lets his eyes close, still smiling widely. He is very tired. His room is very far away. His legs are very wobbly. He is very comforting...comfortable right here. He lets his head tip back and hears his breath snag in his nose.

"Kenobi?" He recognizes that voice. Not his Master. Not his Padawan. Someone else. He looks around. Nothing. He opens his eyes and looks around again. "Hux!"

The other man is standing in the corridor, looking down at him. He doesn't look upset. He doesn't look like he's anything. The lighting makes his hair shine. 

"Are you drunk?" Hux sounds incredulous.

"Not at talll," Obi-Wan blinks at him.

"You can't even stand up," Hux folds his arms. Anakin looks like that when he's in a bad mood. Obi-Wan giggles at the memory of a much younger Anakin with his arms folded as he argued with Master Mundi.

"I'm comfortable," Obi-Wan says petulantly. "Someone moved my room."

"Moved your-?" Hux looks around. "Your room is right over there!"

"Nu-uh," Obi-Wan huffs. "It's fine. I'm going to sleep here."

"You're a Force-damned General," Hux hisses at him. "You are not a drunk passing out in a slum!"

Obi-Wan sniffs and turns his face away. The world lurches a little and he has to hold onto the floor to keep from sliding away. Hux sighs and Obi-Wan cracks an eye open just long enough to see him pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he's hauling Obi-Wan up and the floor lurches but Hux keeps him from falling. Obi-Wan squints his eyes and Hux drags him across the corridor and in through a door and oh! They're in Obi-Wan's room!

Obi-Wan lets go of Hux and falls over. He lands in his bed with a thump, blankets flying up and sighs happily.

"Kenobi!" He hums in reply. "Dammit, will you just listen to me?"

"Shan't!" Obi-Wan buries his face into his pillow.

"You're not a child!" Hux sounds cross. "You're a thricebedamned Jedi, for Force's sake!"

"'m a Jedi," Obi-Wan agrees. "Rescue-ed the Chancellor!"

"Yes," Hux says after a pause. "What a good thing that was."

"Wasn't," Obi-Wan sulks. "Took my Master away again."

"That's...not exactly what happened," Hux says tiredly. "Master Jinn was called away because Master Skryn needed help."

"Should have asked her own Master," Obi-Wan grumbles.

"I am not having this conversation with you," Hux says. "I need you to listen to me."

"Can't not listen to you," Obi-Wan pulls the pillow over his head. "Loud."

"Just..." Hux sighs again. "Listen to me. Please?"

Obi-Wan doesn't want to but he grudgingly pulls down the pillow.

"When you go after Grievous," Hux breathes out in a slow rush. "When you defeat him..."

There's a nasty smell suddenly, like scorched fabric and burnt meat. There's an electric crackle of pain through the Force and he lifts his head. Hux is a little hunched over, hand pressed against his chest.

"When you defeat Grievous," Hux says through his teeth. "You'll be betrayed. The Sith have plots within plots and betrayal within betrayal. Don't turn your back on anyone."

"Sith?" Obi-Wan lurches up but Hux is bent over and his breath smells of ash. Then he's gone. Obi-Wan manages to sit up with an effort. He stares around the room but he can't find his balance and falls back into the bed.

When he wakes with an aching head the next morning, he can't be sure it wasn't an extremely embarassing dream born of liquor brewed for Wookies rather than humans. He thinks it was but whenever he tries to put it out of his mind, he remembers Hux in the sands of Tatooine, watching for the Sith none of them knew was there. He cannot ask the Council's advice, the Force's interdiction still in place, and his Master is gone. Anakin is in a foul mood and likely to take offense if Obi-Wan probes too deeply about Hux. He resolves to ask the man himself when he turns up again. 

But he doesn't.

* * *

Anakin walks back to the Temple from Padmé's residence in a daze. A night with her and the budding Force presence of their child has made everything more real. He feels like a boy landing on Coruscant for the first time; awed and out of place. The sun seems brighter than he's ever seen it and the air seems full of rich scents. The Force dances through a billion souls and it feels like seeing the spiral of the Galaxy from a starship, a sense of how small and integral he is to the Galaxy.

He has to meet with the Council, bring them the Chancellor's missives and prepare for the formal celebrations of their victory in what the holo-news are already calling the Battle of Coruscant. He itches to get back out there, rejoin Ahsoka and Rex on Mandalore but not as much as he did. 

Joy and fear sit uncomfortably in his gut. He's going to be a father. The idea, a child with Padmé's eyes or maybe even his mother's smile, makes him tremble. A life that he's helped to create. A life that he is responsible for...

He senses Hux before he sees him; that quiet shadow in the Force and he stops dead in his tracks. He apologizes absently to the young Knight who ran into him even as he looks around. Hux is sitting by the window in one of the soft chairs intended for visitors. The sunlight makes his hair blaze and throws the dark shadows under his eyes into sharp relief.

"Hux," Anakin calls and his eyes snap open. He sits up and Anakin feels a stab of guilt. He hurries over before Hux can get up. "Don't get up."

"I should," Hux says but he stays in his seat and runs sharp eyes over Anakin. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes!" He hesitates. "Well, not everything. But Padmé-, I-, she's pregnant!"

"Congratulations," Hux says immediately. "Is she well?"

"Yes," Anakin ducks his head, hiding the foolish smile that he can't bite back. "She's so happy."

"That's good," Hux tips his head. "Are you?"

"Yes!" Anakin nods so hard that he feels something crack in his neck. Hux laughs quietly and when Anakin looks up at him, Hux is smiling. "Also....kind of terrified."

"I'm not surprised," Hux pats him on the shoulder. "You'll be a good father, Anakin."

"But what if I'm not?" Anakin blurts out. "What if I mess it up? What if I make mistakes?"

"Everyone makes mistakes," Hux says. "You have to be willing to learn from them and you'll be fine. The most important thing is to love them. No matter what."

"The way my-my mother did?" Anakin has to blink a couple of times to clear the blur from his eyes.

"Exactly," Hux says. "She would be so happy for you. Having you was the best thing that ever happened to her and she loved you so much."

"I miss her," Anakin says thickly. "I miss her every day and I hate that I didn't save her."

"It wasn't your fault, Ani," Hux covers his clenched hands and Anakin breaths out shakily. "She never blamed you."

"She should have! And now...I had a nightmare," he says and Hux goes still. "A vision, not just a dream. Padmé...she was crying and calling for me to save her. She was dying."

"That must have been frightening," Hux says evenly. Anakin nods and swallows.

"I won't let her die," he says fiercely. "I am going to save her."

Hux sighs and when Anakin looks up, he looks tired. "I believe you, Ani. Just don't obsess about this so much that you let it poison the time you spend with her."

"You sound like Master Jinn," Anakin jokes.

"Don't let fear of the future spoil the present," Hux says. He sounds oddly serious. It's not like him to talk like that, the way Jedi talk about time.

"I won't," Anakin promises. The Temple bells chime. "I should get going. The Council are expecting me and I have messages from the Chancellor. Are you...are you staying?"

"I wish I could," Hux shakes his head. "I'm still needed on the front lines."

"I guess," Anakin stands as Hux does and catches the other man in a quick hug. He holds a little tighter than he means to. It isn't fair that the war takes Hux away from him like this. It's necessary but today, he finds it's harder than ever to release his aggravation at the other Jedi who use Hux so carelessly. "Take it easy, okay? You can't win this war on your own."

"Now who sounds like Master Jinn," Hux grumbles but he hugs Anakin back. "Be careful, Ani."

"I'm going to be staying on Coruscant for the time being," Anakin says. "There's no danger here."

"Still." Hux straightens up and adjusts his gloves. "Be careful."

"I will," Anakin promises. "You be careful too."

Hux rolls his eyes and they seperate. Anakin looks back when he's halfway up the stairs and sees Hux's hair in the middle of a crowd of shorter, duller Jedi. When he looks back from the top of the stairs, Hux is gone. Anakin suppresses a shiver of fear. He doesn't like having Padmé or Hux out of his sight. He can't shake the feeling of danger getting closer and he wants everyone he loves close where he can protect them.

* * *

Ventriss draws her sabres and prepares to sell her life dearly. She will not regret what her death is about to buy. Dooku's death had been a liberation. She should have run the moment she felt him die. No. There is no time for regrets. She thinks of her true Master, hears his voice and, for a moment, she almost believes she can feel his Presence. _Will I find you in the Force, Master? Will you be waiting as you promised?_

She hears the heavy tramp of the approaching droids and breathes in. She allows her regret, her guilt and most of all her fear to fill her. Then she exhales and lets it all flow into the Force. The Dark holds no power over her anymore. She will fight this last battle as the Jedi Master Narec wanted her to be.

The doors open all around her. The droids file in, arms raised and red photoreceptors glowing. She does not want to die, Asajj realizes but she cannot live as she has. She spins into battle, lets the knowledge in her muscles send her whirling through the air. Droids fall and blaster bolts fill the small space. She dances, letting her sabres cut through the ranks.

She will lose eventually. The droids do not tire and there are countless hundreds of them. She can only make her death dearly bought. She is tiring.

It happens so quickly that she doesn't even realize her mistake until the droid levels its arm at her. Her sabre blocks the shot from her right. Her other sabre is lodged in the droid to her left. She is exposed. She keeps her eyes open.

The flash of the blaster makes her blink. She doesn't fall. The droid does. She stares for a vital second.

"Kriffing MOVE!"

She launches herself towards the voice, knocking aside the droids' fire with renewed vigour. Her rescuer fires and every shot fells a droid. She does not see his face until she is in the corridor with him and her sabres' light carves the angles of his face out of the gloom.

"You!"

"Me," he says. "Come on."

She follows him without knowing why. The Force sings a little brighter when she does. He barely spares her a glance. He shoots in a steady, unhurried pattern and every shot is true. The droids fall and he weaves around her more acrobatic strikes with the same grace he used to evade her a thousand times before.

"In there, hurry!" He waves her left and Asajj stops hard enough that she rocks backwards. It's a ship. One of Grievous' escape routes. The hatch is up and the system is primed. The hatch closes behind them and he shoots the controls.

"There's only room for one!" She looks around desperately. Everything else is intended for droids.

"So get in already!" he barks. He sounds like a general and she moves almost before she can think. "That won't hold them for long."

"I can't leave you!"

"You can and you karking will," he says. "You haven't earned your redemption just yet, Asajj Ventriss. You have more to do."

"Who are you to-" she cuts off. The Force surges and for a second, she sees it shining like a blazing star around him. Her breath catches.

"Go," he says. 

"I owe you a great debt," she says and he shakes his head. "I can't leave you like this."

He closes his eyes and she feels the Force ring like a bell. There's meaning in the sound but she can't understand it. He opens those pale eyes.

"Go to Mandalore," he says. "She'll need your help. Please."

"I will," she promises then she leaps into the ship. The cockpit seals and the hanger doors open. He does not turn to see her go. As the engines come to life, she sees the hatch opening and sees the flicker of blaster fire. She does not see him fall as the engines fire her little ship out into the black.

* * *

Finnawull hands the last of the detonators to the newly arrived warriors and sends them running to join their kin alongside the Galactic troopers as the next attack wave musters. She tosses the empty crate aside and turns to find a familiar figure behind her.

" _Red_ ," she catches him by the arms, gentle as the spring rain. He is not as sturdy as a Wookie. He is thinner than she remembers him but seems unhurt. " _Are you well_?"

"No," he offers a half bow, "but that's nothing new."

" _Master Qui-gon has left,_ " she says. " _A message came just before the Trandoshans and their droids struck._ "

"I know," Red rubs his face and she thinks again that, were the War ended, she would bring him to the nursery and let the pups keep him warm and fed and telling stories until he was well. This war has hollowed him out like Grasyk-rot hollows out a sapling. She has heard many stories of him from Wookies who have passed through combat zones and the troopers who are fighting to save their homes. She hears and she wonders.

"I need-" Red wrings his hands before he looks up at her. "There is a warning I need to give you, Lady Finnawull, but that's all I can give you. No explanation."

" _You **can** not or you **will** not_?" she asks.

" **Cannot**." He looks miserable. He smells like stagnant water and a festering infection. "I couldn't even warn you while Master Jinn was here. I tried and I failed."

Finnawull looks down at him. The fur along her spine rises and she extends and retracts her claws. She knows that Qui-gon trusts Red but she remembers too how carefully the Jedi had spoken of him. The Force's will, he said. Red has saved so many of her kin...

" _I trust you_ ," she says. " _Tell me what you can._ "

"Thank you." Red closes his eyes and breathes out. "The one behind this war has targeted Kashyyyk for a reason. He wants the Navigation Guild's maps. That's why they landed here. They want the archive."

Finnawull stares at him. There is no way Red should know any of this. The Navigation Guild is barely more than a rumour outside of Wookie society. " _How do they know_?"

"H-They've been planning this for a long time," Red says grimly. 

" _Wait here_ ," Finnawul steers him over to sit on a crate. " _Don't leave_."

"I'll try," Red's smile is a ghoulish rictus. Finnwull hurries out into the swirling chaos of the mobilization. She searches until she spots the one she needs. She grabs his arm and pulls him back to where Red is slumped over on the crate.

" _Red, this is-_ "

"Chewbacca," Red finishes. He looks paler and there's an aching wrench of something like grief running through his scent.

" _Have we met_?" Chewbacca peers down at him doubtfully.

"No." Red shakes his head and a flicker of discomfort crosses his face.

" _This is Red_." Chewbacca looks at her then back at Red with wide eyes. He trills in his throat and stands a little straighter. " _He is bringing a warning_."

" _I would hear this warning_ ," Chewbacca says respectfully.

"The war has come to Kashyyyk because the one behind it wants the knowledge of the Navigation Guild," Red says, looking Chewbacca in the eye and not blinking. "He cannot be allowed to have it."

" _How_?"

"Wait long enough, listen hard enough and no secret is safe," Red winces and presses his fist against his chest. Finnawull sniffs. There is blood in the air and the smell of burning. "Listen...the troopers..."

" _They do not smell of deceit_ ," Finnawull says warily.

"They're...they're blasters." Red's inhale sounds pained. "They don't..."

" _What_?" Chewbacca rocks back on his heels, puzzled.

"A blaster," Red forces through his teeth. "Only as friendly as the one wielding it. Don't forget."

He spits red and Finnawull catches his shoulder as he tips sideways. His breath crackles like dead wood as he inhales. Chewbacca warbles a wordless expression of distress, propping Red up on the other side.

"Be sure," Red's voice is barely a scrape, "that you can keep your...safe. Children. Knowledge. Both."

" _We will_ ," Finnawull promises as the stink of burnt flesh rises thick and sickening. Red lists sideways and slides through their paws, vanishing like ash on the wind. Chewbacca grabs for the air where Red had been and wails low in his throat.

" _What happened_?" He sniffs the air. " _I smell pain_."

" _He said too much_ ," Finnawull says grimly. Chewbacca moans and she extends her claws. " _We will honour his bravery. We will heed his warning_."

* * *

Plo Koon is meditating, readying his mind and spirit for the strife ahead. His troopers are in good spirits with the war's end in sight. Grievous is no Dooku and the Separatists are coming apart at the seams as the Republic march on to a certain victory. He does not begrudge them their joy but neither does he share it. This war has been a foul enterprise from beginning to end and there will be much work needed to truly heal the divisions it has caused. 

The work of the Jedi and the Senate will last for years, he knows and it may be decades before true normalcy is restored. It will be more satisfying work than this...butchery.

A sound recalls him to the physical world. He senses nothing in the Force; shadows and eddies that tell him nothing. _Droid_ is his first thought and he reaches for his lightsabre as he opens his eyes. He sees his unexpected guest immediately and releases his lightsabre.

"Red."

Hux startles, spinning to look at him with wide eyes. He blinks. "You-you can see me!"

"Yes," Plo frowns at him.

"You can see me," Hux says again, brows creasing. "Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no-"

"What is wrong?" Plo barely suppresses a flinch as Hux's panic floods the Force. He does not know the man as well as he wishes. He owes him his life, he thinks, at least twice. Qui-gon thinks very highly of him although Plo has somehow never managed to ask any of the questions he has about Hux. He has certainly never seen him so visibly distressed.

"It's too early. It's got to be too early," Hux seems to be talking to himself, "but you can see me now...Sith karking hells!"

Plo rises to his feet and tries again to read the Force that swirls around Hux. The panic is still there, rapidly sinking under an iron control befitting a Jedi Master. Hux rakes both hands through his hair and takes a deep breath. He focuses on Plo.

"Master Koon, you are going on a ...flying mission soon, yes?"

"A little later, yes."

"Don't."

The word hangs between them.

Hux's stance shifts very slightly and Plo feels a shiver run down his spine. Hux's expression is grim and his eyes are hard.

"As you value your life, Master Koon, do not get in that fighter." Hux closes his eyes for a second. " _Don't_ tell the troopers. They need to think you are in your fighter."

"Have our communications been compromised?" Plo cannot imagine why the Separatists would waste their energy. Hux's mouth twists into an expression worthy of General Tarkin.

"They..." he presses a hand against his chest. "They must believe you are in that fighter."

"Why?" Plo demands.

"I don't have time to explain," Hux looks around. "Just trust me."

Plo hesitates. He does not know Hux well. Qui-gon trusts him implicitly. Obi-Wan is frequently exasperated by him but trusts him nonetheless. Ahsoka and Skywalker adore him. He can trust them, surely? "When there is time, Hux, I will want that explanation when we meet again."

"Thank you," Hux taps his right fist against his chest. "Be careful, Master Koon."

He's gone before Plo can reply. Plo looks around, reaches through the Force but there's nothing to prove Hux was ever there. He stares at the empty space where Hux was. "The Force be with you, my friend."

He broods on Hux's warning and nearly ignores it. The unease that lingers makes him think again and he uses the Force to nudge a trooper into taking his fighter without any of his squadron noticing. He watches the fight, if it can even be called that, unfold from one of the towers. Everything seems to be going well and he is starting to think Hux was mistaken.

Then there is a crackle; a transmission from Coruscant. A voice that sounds like Chancellor Palpatine. Plo hears '-rder 66' and the Force convulses. He feels his fellow Council members die even as his own troops shoot down his fighter. The Force rages with grief, pain and the bitter storm of betrayal. Plo staggers, the universe suddenly unstable under his feet. 

He has to run.

* * *

Qui-gon is late. He opens an eye long enough to glance at the chronometer. Ten more minutes have passed. He sits back on his heels with a dissatisfied sigh. His attempts at meditation have been unsatisfactory for the last two days. The Force is turbulent and murky. His attempts to find clarity have been little better than the Council's of late.

He can feel the constellation of the greater Order, his siblings in the Force, spread out over the Galaxy. Their resolve and commitment to ending this war, with Dooku dead, sings through his senses. He allows the grief that the thought of his once-Master causes. Dooku had been a great man once. 

The Dark is seductive, Qui-gon knows. The Living Force is infinitely harder to master and it can never be so casually wielded. He does not regret, even for an instant, his choice to focus on it. It is that focus that makes him hesitate. He can feel a sense of dread that seems to have no cause.

Feelings are not Visions, as Master Yoda would say, but Qui-gon feels that there is something the Force is trying to tell him. Meditation has failed him. All the Jedi within reach of his mind are busy with their duties. He should go. The troopers will be expecting him. 

He fingers his lightsabre, still restless. He wishes idly that Hux would make another appearance. Obi-Wan has said that the red haired man has been absent since Dooku's death. It is another troubling omen, albeit one that Qui-gon can only discuss with his padawan and Ani. Hux's absence feels...significant. 

He pushes himself to his feet with a grunt of effort. His door hisses open as he gestures absently at the controls. A body collides heavily with his. Qui-gon staggers back. The intruder slaps at the door controls. His hand drops to his lightsabre before he registers red hair and black clothing. "Hux?"

"You can't go out there," Hux says. His Force Presence boils with fear and resolve.

"What?"

"It's nearly time," Hux says. "I've screamed myself raw-"

"What are you-"

"-it's today. It has to be today."

"Hux!" Qui-gon catches him by the elbows. "What are you talking about?"

"The Council is going to confront Palpatine," Hux says. It almost isn't a surprise. Qui-gon has known for years that Hux knows more of the Force's workings than anyone he's ever met. His tone is the surprise. Not contemptuous. Not wryly amused. Hux sounds _terrified_. "They are going to expose him. Too little, too late, just as they have been for every step of this thrice-bedamned war!"

"I don't understand," Qui-gon says, shaking him.

"Sheev Palpatine," Hux says, "or Darth Sidious, if you'd rather."

" _Palpatine_ ," Qui-gon reels backwards. "No! It can't be!"

"It is," Hux rubs both hands over his face. "The Senate are his. The Jedi will be outlaws by the time the sun sets on Coursant."

"Why didn't you _tell us_?" Qui-gon demands.

"I couldn't," Hux says. He must read Qui-gon's reaction in his face. "I haven't been avoiding you by choice, Master Jinn. The Force allows me only such much leeway to intervene. I _was not_ permitted to warn you."

There's a jumble of images; Shmi Skywalker with blood on her face, Queen Padmé greeting the new Chancellor with a smile and the Jedi Council sitting in their seats as he/Hux paces in front of them and no-one sees him. All of them permeated with anger and desperation turning to despair. Qui-gon is put in mind of his feelings when they had duelled the Sith beneath the palace and the feelings curdle in his own gut.

"Why now?" Qui-gon asks.

"Sidious is about to give Order 66," Hux says. "The troopers will execute the Jedi as traitors to the Republic."

"The Jedi will fight-"

"Not like this," Hux says. "These are the troopers that have followed them, fought alongside them and saved them a thousand times. This will not be a formal matter. Even a Jedi is helpless against a shot in the back."

"I have to warn them!" Qui-gon reaches but the Force is a storm of dread and darkness. He can barely feel the Presence of the other Jedi now. "I must warn-"

"Anakin has fallen," Hux shakes his head. "He murdered Dooku on Palpatine's orders. Sidious has been undermining his faith in the Jedi and feeding his fear and insecurity. When the Council tries to arrest Palpatine, Ani will support him."

"No..." Grief stabs like dagger and Qui-gon's eyes burn.

"He is not a Jedi anymore." Hux says and Qui-gon sees the tears in his eyes.

"Obi-Wan? Master Yoda?"

"They are clever," Hux says slowly, "and lucky. They...they might survive."

"Can you help them?" Hux hesitates and Qui-gon catches him by the arms.

"I-I tried to warn Kenobi," he says. "He didn't listen."

"Please!" Qui-gon begs. He can feel the dread building like a tidal wave, looming over his every thought.

"I-" Hux looks torn. "I can try."

"Please," Qui-gon pleads.

"I was here to save you," Hux says, looking around at the sealed door.

"I am warned, my friend and I am not a General. I can escape under my own power. If Sidious wishes to lure Ani to the Dark, he will target Obi-Wan. Help him, please!"

"I don't know if I can," Hux shrugs off Qui-gon's hands. His brows crease in effort. "I don't actually have that much control over where I-"

He vanishes. The Force ripples around him and Qui-gon tries once more to reach his fellow Jedi. He fails and reluctantly, he turns his attention away. He must escape. He must save any Jedi he can. Force be with them all!

* * *

"Not to say 'I told you so'," the voice from behind him is just the last straw. Obi-Wan snarls wordlessly. "But I did in fact tell you every detail of this."

Hux is a dark shape crowned with fire to Obi-Wan's left. As the 'troopers pour through the caves, Obi-Wan wishes just for a second that they'd shoot the brat. Instead Hux draws his blaster and fires at something in front of them. A white-armoured shape falls from the upper level and Obi-Wan can see a bridge ahead.

"Not that way!" Hux barrels into him and the walkway they were on gives way. There's a heartstopping instant of freefall, then branches, slowing them until they land on the ground.

"What in the Sith hells?" Obi-Wan huffs.

"There would be an ambush," Hux is already scanning their surroundings. "Very dramatic but very time consuming. You are needed. The faster you get to the ship, the sooner you can _leave_."

"I have to-" Obi-Wan's thoughts overflow and trip over themselves. The troopers; the assassination; his Master; Ani. 

"You have to survive," Hux snaps. There's another rapid exchange of fire ahead and Hux shoves him behind a rockfall. "There's nothing you can do."

"I- my-" Obi-Wan stops, sweat pouring down his face.

Hux flicks his gaze aside. "...I don't know. Things are different. This isn't the way it went. The Jedi are doomed but Qui-gon..."

"What?!" Obi-wan lunges forward, seizes his damnable coat in both hands.

"Qui-gon Jinn should have died on Naboo," Hux snarls back. "I don't know what happens to him now!"

"And Anakin?"

Hux shoves him backwards. "Who do you think is 'cleansing' the Temple?"

"No," Obi-Wan shakes his head, staggering back.

"And I'm quite sure that his new Master has disposed of whatever Jedi the Council saw fit to send to 'question' him."

"Then it is over," Obi-Wan drops his lightsabre.

"The kriffing Sith hells it is!" The sting of leather on his cheek rocks him back on his heels. Hux scoops up his lightsabre and closes the distance between them. "You're not a general anymore, Kenobi. You're a karking Resistance fighter! Save the self-pity until you've actually achieved something!"

He shakes his head. "I have to-I have to fight!"

"This battle is lost," Hux says. "You're fighting a new war now, Kenobi. Every dead Jedi makes Sidious that much more powerful."

"I have to get back to the Temple," Obi-Wan looks around. "I have to contact the others. We have to do something."

"Cody won't chase you too hard," Hux says, distant and distracted. "If you give him plausible deniability, he'll take it. And Grievous always had an escape route. You need to go up. It would be close to the peak."

Obi-Wan nods then looks back at Hux. "There's likely only room for one. In the ship, I mean."

Hux blinks and seems to take a second to refocus. "Go. I don't need the ship to get wherever I'm going next."

Obi-Wan rubs at his eyes. "Be safe and...the Force be with you."

"May it be more useful to you than it has been to most," Hux says. "I'll distract them. Go."

Hux's running before Obi-Wan can think of a reply and then he has to go creeping and crawling past the troopers who are hunting him. He finds the ship, tucked away on a deserted platform and takes off without incident. There's an automated message from the Temple, claiming an attack and calling all Jedi to return. 

He listens to it very carefully. Then he programs his nav-com to take him to Kashyyk instead. He must consult with Master Yoda.

* * *

Tas'hemo is playing truant. Well, not really. Not technically. All the Masters are busy. Something is happening. She knows something is happening. No-one is telling the padawans anything. It's so annoying. She's going to be a Knight soon and she deserves to know.

They've won. That's what everyone says. There was an announcement from the Senate. Dooku is dead. The Separatists are surrendering. Master Kenobi is hunting General Grievous, she knows. The city outside is bright with joy and celebration but the Temple feels shadowed, foreboding and she doesn't know why!

It's been like this since the Senate proclamation at dawn and the last of the sunlight is fading from the windows. The Guardians are still at the gates. The classes are all cancelled. She's practiced her drills, spent an hour trying to meditate in a hall filled with nervous padawans and now she's wandering the corridors.

It's too early to sleep but too late to do anything meaningful. She's collected a few of her age-mates as she wanders through the halls and some younglings brave enough to venture past their distracted caretakers. Shirsel has half-convinced them to go back to the practice rooms when Tas hears running footsteps. 

A man comes running around the curve of the corridor. The Guardians at the corner don't look at him which is strange. Shirsel and the younglings reach for their 'sabres but Tas recognizes him. "Red!"

He's a trooper, she knows, or part of the army at least. She's seen him in battle alongside her Master. Master Jinn had introduced her to him when he was passing through their sector.

"Padawan Tas'hemo," he skids slightly as he stops in front of them.

"Is something wrong?" she can feel the terror leaking from him in the Force. "What's happened?"

"You need to hide," Red says. "Now. All of you."

"What? Why?" Shirsel looks around. The Temple is peaceful, voices echoing up from hallways and laughter from one of the dining rooms.

"Something-" Red winces. "There is danger coming. There isn't time to explain. You need to hide."

"I-" Tas looks up at him. Red looks _awful_. She can't sense any deceit but there's a lot of desperation. "Where can we hide?"

"Anywhere that people won't look," Red says. "Don't come out unless it's Master Yoda, Kenobi or Jinn, okay?"

"O-okay," she swallows. "What about my Master?"

Red closes his eyes. "If you're _sure_ it's her. Not just someone who sounds like her."

"Why would someone want to sound like my Master?" she asks urgently. She doesn't understand! She can feel the shape of what's to come, coalescing into something big and terrible and she wants her Master like a child calling for her mother.

"I don't have time to explain," Red says. "You need to trust me. Go!"

Shirsel opens her mouth but Tas grabs her arm and she looks at Tas, then at Red and swallows. She nods. Red turns at the sound of the great doors swinging closed. The Guardians are moving to the doors and the great shutters descend with a rattle to cut off the last of the light.

"Be safe," Red says. Tas nods and they run.

* * *

"Corporal?" XN-4312 tears his gaze away from the small bodies strewn across the floor. General Skyw- _Lord Vader_ has been before them. His brain rings with the order; mind thrumming with the directive but there are strange intrusive thoughts underneath.

He must obey. That is the fact of his life. He is XN-4312, not 'Xan'. That is the fact of his life. That is true.

TF-83215 is standing in the doorway, blaster held loosely in his hands. XN-4312 should reprimand him. He does not. He nods instead. "What is it?"

TF-83215 looks over his shoulder. He is not alone, XN-4312 recognizes the armoured bodies filling the hall behind him. It must be most of his regiment. None of them speak but every one of them mirrors TF-83215's unease

"I..." TF-83215 falters. He hesitates another moment. "I request a clarification of our orders, Corporal!"

"Kill all the traitors," XN-4312 recites, the order thrumming through his mind in time with his heart-rate. "Protect and obey Lord Vader. These are our orders."

TF-83215 wavers. "I r-request clarification..."

"All the Jedi are traitors," XN-4312 intones. He feels discomfort. His eyes linger on the bodies. His stomach gurgles queasily. He may have contracted an illness. The order drums through his thoughts.

"I request clarification," TF-83215 repeats, "on the status of LTH-RED."

XN-4312 freezes. "He's here?"

"We have been unable to confirm he has been notified of Order 66," TF-83215 is shaking. "He has been sighted in the upper levels of the Temple."

The order's demanding beat thrums through his thoughts but it offers no guidance. He wavers, understanding the strain that shivers through the rest of the regiment. He must obey his orders. Red is not part of his orders. Then, a memory; the sun of Rgal-15 hot on his neck as General Skywalker emerges from the comm shuttle. The General speaking with Red. The General's hand on Xan's shoulder. The General's voice, pitched for his ears alone. "Look after him for me."

Relief as he exhales. "Per Lord Vader's previous orders, we are to secure LTH-RED and ensure his well-being until Lord Vader can address the matter."

His men sag slightly for a moment before straightening with new purpose. The order will be obeyed. XN-4312 can almost feel their relief. Red is not a clone but he is part of their regiment. He is theirs.

"Where is he?"

TF-83215 salutes and leads the way. It is easier to traverse the devastated Temple with a purpose. The order still rumbles through his mind but with his objective firmly in his sights, it is easier to let his eyes skim past the small tell-tale signs of life.

They have to find Red. There is screaming and blaster fire from all around them. This is a combat zone. Red has been separated from his regiment. They must find him. They must retrieve him. XN-4312 glances back and sees TF-72394 is carrying Red's armour.

It will be easier to retrieve Red if he is wearing his armour. XN-4312 has not served with any of the Coruscanti regiments. They are unaware of Red. The potential exists for grievous misunderstandings. It will be better if XN-4312 and the rest of the regiment retrieve Red quickly.

They have to take a lift, crowded together as they wait. The whole regiment is breathing in unison, as uniform as their genetics. TF-72395 and TF-83215 busy themselves with opening the straps and catches on Red's armour. XN-4312 nods approval.

It is smart to have the armour ready to be worn. Red does not always wear his armour. They are in a combat zone. It is too dangerous for Red to be here without his armour. Another scream from the floor below. More blaster fire.

The lift arrives, door opening with a soft ping. There is not enough room for the whole regiment. XN-4312 curses. He sends the troopers who will not fit to find stairs. He tells them to spread out and be alert. His men nod and run. 

The lift ascends slowly. Perhaps it has been sabotaged? Or damaged? XN-4312 allows his attention to linger on the lift. The order and the objective jostle in his mind and his head is starting to ache from the clamour. He will retrieve Red. The order will be obeyed.

The doors finally open. XN-4312 notes that the corridor they step into is close to the Senatorial speeder bays. The order surges in his thoughts, loud enough that it almost drives him to his knees. This might be an escape rou-

His boot catches on the edge of a robe. He stumbles. He looks down. General Synmar Roora's lifeless eyes look back. The General's chest is a mass of charred flesh. Her hand is still closed around the hilt of her extinguished lightsabre. XN-4312 feels his stomach contract sharply. Bile burns up his throat.

"Corporal!" TF-83215's voice jerks him back to attention.

He looks up. There is a flash of familiar red hair at an intersection. There is a smaller shape, pushed down the adjoining corridor. The flicker of light on the helmets of the First Coruscanti Regiment. Red turns, hands empty and held up. The flash of a blaster shot.

"NO!" The cry echoes from his own troopers.

Red falls. The force of the shot throws him back. XN-4312 doesn't feel the trigger under his finger. The lieutenant of the First Coruscanti spins, clutching at his arm. XN-4312 is already running. TF-97135 is before him, yanking at the medkit on his belt. XN-4312 cannot look away from where Red is crumpled on the marble floor. Motionless.

He hears the hiss of a lightsabre behind him. The order rattles in his head but XN-4312 doesn't listen. His mind is blank with horror. He hears a familiar snarl of rage. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle up. Lord Vader barrels through the intersection, lightsabre in hand. He lands between Red's body and the First Coruscanti Regiment. 

There is more screaming. XN-4312 does not look. TF-97135 tears off his gauntlet and feels for a pulse. Red shifts limply as other troopers scramble to lift him. His head flops forward loosely. TF-97135 lets his wrist fall. The trooper sinks back on his heels.

"No." XN-4312 pushes forward. His own gloves stick to his skin as he yanks them off. Red's skin is cooling under his fingers. He can't feel a pulse. Red's body hangs limp between the two troopers. His hands are shaking. His knees buckle. His men breathe out a great heaving gasp of grief.

He turns his head. Lord Vader is standing in a ring of ...pieces. His yellow eyes stare through XN-4312's visor. He cannot find words. Lord Vader's face crumples in grief as he gulps in air. One of the First Coruscant troopers steps back. Lord Vader's expression reforms into a mask of rage.

The rest of the survivors of the First Coruscanti bolt. Lord Vader pursues.

XN-4312 jabs his fingers into the soft skin just under Red's jaw. He almost doesn't feel the faint tremble of a pulse. His head jerks down and he sees Red's lips part around a soft hiss of breath. TF-97315 catches Red's chin, fumbling for the medkit.

"Don't," Red rasps. "Dying."

"We'll get you stabilized," XN-4312 assures him. "A little bath in the bacta and you'll be right as a refurbished droid."

Red's expression twists. "No. Blaster to chest. Lungs burnt. No time."

"No," XN-4312 paws at his helmet even as his eyes burn. "We can save you."

"Save-Save the children. Save the Senator," Red's breath hitches and red dots fleck his lips. "Run, Xan."

XN-4312's helmet hits the ground and Xan rubs the tears from his eyes. Red's body slumps to the floor. Xan looks around at the troopers around him. The order is barely more than a death rattle in his mind. He can hear the engines of a civilian speeder outside. He picks up his blaster and his men fall in beside him as he turns towards the bay.

* * *

Bail raises his hands, mind racing. He can hear the fighting inside the Temple. The troopers holding blasters on him are jittery and he thinks that all he needs is an opening...

A lightsabre ignites and the troopers turn. There are Jedi running out of the door. The troopers fire. The Jedi knock the bolts aside but it's clumsy. Bail goes for his own blaster. He finds an empty holster. He's left the karking thing in his office! He looks at the closest trooper and grabs for their blaster. He misses and the trooper slams the butt of the blaster against his cheek.

Then there is shouting and a lot more blasters get fired. Bail staggers sideways, sees the abyss of the city and something grabs him around the waist. He is hauled back with enough force that he nearly goes flying off the other side of the walkway.

"Senator!" This time he's grabbed by an armoured hand and Bail blinks down at the trooper holding him. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine," he looks around. There are dead troopers on the walkway and the Jedi... The Force help him, they're only children! The children are huddled together, lightsabres held in shaking hands. There are other troopers standing over the fallen, none of them wearing helmets. They all have blood on their faces.

"What-" he blinks but the troopers without helmets are still there, holding blasters and peering around nervously. "What is happening?"

"The Emperor has ordered the extermination of the Jedi," the trooper holding him says. "He sent his apprentice to ensure it was done."

"Emperor?"

"Emperor Palpatine," the trooper shakes his head. "You need to leave. All of you need to leave now. Immediately." 

"I'm not leaving without them," Bail pulls away and tries to put himself between the troopers and the children. The wookie child is keening softly in their throat and the Twi'lek girl who seems to be the leader wraps an arm around their shoulders.

"Your speeder should have enough room," the trooper nods. "You have to hurry. There isn't time."

"Why are you helping us?" The Twi'lek girl asks in a shaking voice. The trooper's expression cracks and he takes a hand off his blaster to rub tears from his eyes.

"It's not right-" he swallows. "We couldn't stop it. We have to obey the order. We must obey the order."

He stops and shakes his head. Bail tries to inch the children back towards the speeder.

"We had to obey until-" he looks away and there are fresh tears in his eyes.

"Until Red died," one of the others says. "He told us..."

"'Protect the Senator'," another trooper says and most of the others echo him.

"'Save the Senator'," the first trooper says. "And it was like ...something broke. We didn't have to obey."

"We couldn't save him," another trooper says. "We can do what he asked. We could save the Senator, save the children."

Bail falters. The Twi'lek girl looks up at the trooper. "Red's dead?"

"One of the other troopers shot him," he looks agonized. "It was...it was quick."

"All right," Bail does a quick headcount. He looks at his speeder and tries to think. "Everyone in."

"Senator?" The troopers stare at him.

"I'm not leaving you here either," Bail says. "I can't imagine the ...Emperor is going to look kindly on you saving us."

"We won't fit," the first trooper says. "You don't have time to linger."

"Then get in the damn speeder." Bail leaves no room for argument. The trooper looks at his brothers then raises his blaster and shoots them, one by one. "No! What are you doing!?"

The trooper turns to him and holds up his blaster. "It's set to stun. I don't know what they did to make us obey like that but you can't trust us until you find it."

He touches the muzzle of his blaster to his temple and pulls the trigger. Bail catches his body before it hits the ground and breathes a little easier when he sees the man is still breathing. He's not sure how he's going to get them all into his speeder. He might still be leaving them to their deaths.

"We can help," the Twi'lek girl says and the man in his arms lifts a little. "They-if they were Red's friends...we have to help them!"

The other children murmur agreement and the limp bodies of the helmetless troopers lift from the ground. Bail shakes his head, feeling a moment of dizziness. They end up with the troopers stacked on the back seat and the children clinging to the side. The speeder's engine screams under the pressure and Bail has to focus to see only one set of controls.

They fly through the city, low enough that most of the nightly traffic flows past them. He can't risk them being seen but they can't stay anywhere that the troopers might track them and the speeder's engine can only keep them in the air for so long. He lands the speeder by some semi-ruined hovels and turns to the Twi'lek girl.

"We need to get rid of their armour," he says. "It's too heavy."

"We can do that," she says and the children make quick work of the armour. The girl has them throw the pieces into different heating vents where no-one will find them. She throws the blasters off the side of the building. "If they're still intact by the time they land, they'll be stolen before anyone looks twice at them."

"Good thinking," Bail says. "I didn't get a chance to ask your name."

"Tas'hemo," she says. "My Master is-...was Thi Kon."

"It is a great honour to meet you, Padawan Hemo," Bail bows slightly. "I am Bail Organa, the Senator for Alderaan."

"I know," she says. "You-Red said you would help us."

"I will," he promises. "I need to contact my staff and make preparations. Can you and your friends keep a watch on the troopers?"

"They won't wake up," she says. It sounds like a promise. "I-we can make sure they stay asleep until you find what made them turn evil."

Bail can only nod. He doesn't know what manner of programming these troopers have received, much less how they came to break it. He should leave them here, let the underbelly of Coruscant devour them before they wake. He cannot. In the face of such an atrocity, he cannot be party to such evil.

He contacts his secretary, careful to speak only in coded phrases that he is absolutely sure Palpatine's little vipers don't know. Gestia gives nothing away as she informs him that his speeder must be brought to the spaceport immediately as the Chancellor is calling an emergency session of the Senate and his presence is required. 

"Senator Amidala's handmaidens are preparing for her return to Naboo," Gestia says. Bail had forgotten. The Queen had respected Padmé's devotion to her duty but at this late stage in her pregnancy, the Senator should be with her family as tradition demanded. "They will collect the speeder and deliver it to our ship while you go to the Senate."

"That's fine," Bail says. 

"They should be close by," Gestia says pleasantly. Bail sees the smooth lines of a Naboo shuttle as it descends through the rush of early evening traffic. 

"I see them," he says. "I will give them the keys and go to the Senate immediately."

"Very good, Senator," Gestia says. "I will have your protocol droid waiting for you."

"Thank you, Gestia." He shuts off his com and turns to Padawan Hemo. "There, do you see? The ship there? That is going to take you and the troopers to the space port."

"The space port?" She steals a look at her fellow children. "What-I mean, where will we go?"

"They'll take you to my ship," Bail assures her. "We need to get you off Coruscant as fast as possible but the Chancellor has called an emergency session and I cannot risk him noticing my absence."

"Those people," she looks up at the ship. "Are they- Do you trust them?"

"With my life," he promises her. She searches his face for a moment then nods slowly. "I promise you, you will be safe."

"You can't promise that," she says and turns as the ramp descends. Namé is dressed in nondescript clothing, hood drawn up to hide her face. She looks around, eyes lingering on the piled troopers and the badly concealed lightsabres, and bows to Bail.

"Senator," Captain Panaka appears behind her and three of Bail's own security detail hurry down the ramp after him. "We have a spare speeder and Captain Panaka will see you safely to the Senate. There are new security measures being introduced due to suspected terrorist activity."

"No doubt," he says grimly. "Take care of them, Namé."

"We will," she promises and turns a gentle smile on the skittish padawans. "My name is Namé, I am a servant of Senator Amidala. We are here to help."

Bail lingers long enough to see them on the ramp before he really has to go. Captain Panaka steers the borrowed speeder through the tangle of traffic and manages to get him to the entrance of the Senate a full forty three seconds before the red-robed guards close the doors. Bail hurries and finds that Padmé has saved him a spot in her pod. He arrives just as Palpatine, now as physically twisted as his morals, denounces the Jedi as terrorists.

Padmé looks around as their fellows cheer the seizure of power and the end of democracy and there are tears in her eyes. Bail keeps his frown from his face with an effort. No doubt Palpatine's bootlickers are watching every reaction. He cannot afford to draw attention now.

It still turns his stomach to watch and his disgust distracts him long enough that he misses Padmé's departure. He shakes off his distraction and hurries to catch her. He nearly does, gets close enough to see the last of her handmaidens being sent away before Panaka catches his elbow.

"Captain?"

"I have a message for you," Panaka says. "From a ...friend."

"Which friend?"

Panaka glances around. "Just a friend."

"I'm sorry," Bail manages a thin smile. "I am not in the habit of taking advice from strangers."

"I really think you should, Senator," Panaka insists. "This friend...he hasn't been wrong yet. You might save more lives."

Bail stops. Panaka holds out a small disc; a comm with the Jedi's winged crest on the bottom. Bail feels his eyes widen. He looks up at Panaka who nudges the comm towards him. He takes it and tucks it into the small breast pocket in his robe. Panaka bows.

"Force be with you, Senator."

"And with you," he says automatically. "Tell Senator Amidala...no, I'll send a message."

They're risking too much already. Better to send an encrypted message once she's had a chance to regain her composure. The Galaxy will need her courage and her compassion in the dark times ahead. 

He turns away, his own staff catching up and starts to give orders to prepare his ship to depart. The Emperor's proclamation will have scared some of his flightier colleagues. There should be enough noise that no-one is going to look too hard at him. Breha's standing order that he not endanger himself is public knowledge. Palpatine himself has made some rather tasteless jokes about it. 

His departure should raise no questions but as soon as he's safely aboard his private shuttle, he pulls out the comm and thumbs it on. There's no chatter; the beacon signal has been cut. Two dots glow green in the Temple. It takes a second to read the characters but Bail recognizes the signs for 'Yoda' without needing to translate.

He squares his shoulders, ignores the ache in his head and the dull throb of the bruise that is starting to darken on his face and raises the com to his lips.

"Master Yoda? Can I offer you any assistance?"

* * *

Padame can't breathe. Her throat burns with every desperate attempt. The world burns at the edges of her senses. The pain from her abdomen flares again and her cry rasps in her throat. Her children are fighting to be born but she hurts and the tears sear her eyes-

Footsteps.

Padame struggles to open her eyes. Reaches for a weapon. 

"Oh hells," the voice is familiar. The footsteps come to her side and she feels gentle hands on her side. "Padme, can you hear me?"

"Hux," the name comes out on an exhale.

"I'm here," Hux's voice shakes a little. "I'm going to-to try and help you up. You'll breathe easier if you're upright."

"You. You sound so," Padme winces as he lifts her, his chest to her back, "sure..."

"Force choking is unpleasant but if you don't die while he does it, you can recover." Hux's hair is falling in his face as he steadies her. "Just try to breathe."

Padme can feel the tears on her cheeks. "Did you know?"

Hux looks down for a second, then he lifts his chin like a soldier awaiting reprimand. "I knew the story of Darth Vader. I thought...no, I hoped Ani would do better. I shouldn't-"

"You hoped," Padme coughs as she tries to smile.

"For better," Hux says. "For you and for him and for the whole karking Galaxy."

It is easier to breathe, propped up. Another contraction shudders through her and Padme gasps. Hux's hands on her shoulders are all that keeps her upright and he looks around as she pants through the pain.

"I think," he shakes his head. "I know you need to be in the shuttle. This planet isn't hospitable and I doubt the space-port is sanitary. Can you stand?"

"If you help me," Padme presses her hands against her stomach and Hux catches her under the arms. He is stronger than she expects and for a moment, she thinks he will pick her up. Instead he ducks under her arm and lets her lean most of her weight into him. Padme scores bloody lines on his neck when the contractions tear through her. Hux hisses softly but doesn't flinch.

"I confess, my experience with expectant mothers is," Hux huffs out a sound that might be a laugh, "well, almost entirely theoretical. But the contractions getting faster means it's progressing, yes?"

"Yes," Padme rocks back on her heels and struggles not to cry out. "I need-"

"We're nearly there," Hux soothes. "And then you can rest, I promise."

"I need," she pants through another contraction, "a distraction."

"I could recite uniform codes, the conservation formulae for kyber," Hux rattles through a list of knowledge, all military flavoured. 

"I think," Padme manages as they climb the ramp, "I am done with war, for today."

Threepio comes hurrying over and Hux sends him for the medical kit even as he reclines the secondary co-pilot's seat as far as it goes. Threepio comes back and they ease her into the seat as carefully as they can. She grabs for Hux's hand, desperate for a human touch. The leather is softer than she expected. He squeezes her hand and she hisses around another tearing cramp.

"I don't-" Hux sounds very young suddenly. "I don't know anything but war."

"You..." she has to breathe in deeply. "You know hope."

"I-" Hux shakes his head. "I think I've proven hope is foolish. I hoped for a lot of things and they all turned to ash."

"Why?" The pain is making everything sharp-edged. The light is painful, white and glaring. She closes her eyes again. It seems suddenly easier to ask. "Why do you-"

The bones in his hands grate together as a fresh surge of agony surges through her. She can hear Threepio twittering away in the background. Hux says something harsh and Threepio's voice fades.

"Why-?"

"Breathe," Hux says roughly. "Obi-Wan should be back soon."

"I want to-to know," Padme pants.

"Why does any sentient do something this irrational?" Hux says sourly. "Love."

It's hard to imagine; every time she's seen Hux, he's been more like a droid than a sentient. She opens her eyes and feels a distant sort of surprise to see that his eyes are red. The light refracts off the damp patches on his cheeks.

"I wanted to save him," Hux says. "I thought I could."

She's holding his hand too tightly, Padme realizes when she tries to squeeze but her hand can't close any tighter. She tries to smile. "So did I..."

Hux makes a broken, jagged sound. Padme blinks and the lights dim. It seems to be getting darker. She rolls her head enough to see Hux's face. He looks ...diminished. Worn through like an old uniform.

"Anakin loves you, Padme." Hux's mouth twists like the words are bitter. "He still does but Sidious has convinced him that his inadequacies are someone else's fault. It's a lie but it's as seductive as the Dark Side itself. In the Dark, no-one sees your weakness."

Padme clutches at his hand. Hux bends, copper hair falling looser than she's ever seen it to block out the worst of the glare, and his whisper is almost lost in the sound of boots outside the shuttle and Obi-Wan calling her name. "You are loved. The Dark is not for you. Fight. Stay."

She clings to him as the pain crests again. She hears voices; Hux, Obi-Wan and Threepio but she can't understand them. She curls around the tearing agony and bumps her forehead into Hux's. She can't get words past her tightly clenched teeth but he doesn't say anything, just hums. The tune is gentle and ...almost familiar. She's heard it before, she's nearly sure but then another contraction tears through her and she knows nothing else.

* * *

C-3P0 is, most uncharacteristically, at a loss. Master Kenobi is sitting in the pilot's seat, face in his hands and with Master Anakin's lightsabre clipped to his belt. Mistress Padmé is lying in the auxiliary pilot's seat with Master Hux beside her. Even the most cursory scan shows that all three of his humans are in acute distress. C-3P0 can find no useful response in any of his programming.

Master Anakin is dead. This is shocking enough that C-3P0 has temporarily rerouted all sub-processes relating to Master Anakin and his feelings about the whole thing because he does not have the capacity to process those emotions without suspending all other functions. R2-D2 has gone to busy himself with the engine and neglected maintenance subroutines. He chirrups periodically, maintaining a network connection through audio channels and C-3P0 responds through the navigation system.

He is needed. Master Kenobi is currently incapable of directing the ship. Master Hux is tending to Mistress Padmé. Mistress Padmé is in labour and in obvious distress over Master Anakin.

The greater Galaxy is in turmoil and C-3P0 has no framework to process the change. This problem too has been temporarily suspended.

"Master Kenobi," he ventures. "Sir?"

Master Kenobi lifts his head and blinks around. "Yes, Threepio?"

"I wonder if I might offer a suggestion as to our destination?" Threepio asks delicately.

"Destination?" Master Kenobi shakes his head. "Where are we going?"

"You set a course for Coruscant," C-3P0 points out.

"Oh, no. No, we can't do that," Master Kenobi sits up and reaches for the controls. "That isn't safe."

"No, sir," C-3P0 agrees. "I would like to suggest an alternative, if you don't object. There is an Alderaanian way-station between here and Coruscant. Senator Organa is a good friend of Mistress Padmé's and of the Jedi and he is offering sanctuary."

"It could be a trap," Master Kenobi shakes his head.

"It's not," Master Hux says, turning his head. Mistress Padmé hisses and he turns back to her immediately. "Bail Organa is a good man."

"The message was transmitted using his personal cipher and was additionally encrypted using the protocol he and Mistress Padmé developed for private communications," C-3P0 adds helpfully. "I have triple-checked and it is genuine."

"All right," Master Kenobi brings them out of hyperspace. "What are the coordinates, Threepio?"

C-3P0 provides the coordinates and Master Kenobi looks over at where Mistress Padmé is clinging to Master Hux. He enters the coordinates and sits back as the ship takes them back into hyperspace.

"Our estimated arrival is 34.007 minutes, sir," C-3P0 informs him and Master Kenobi nods before he puts his head in his hands with a deep sigh.

* * *

Bail comes down from putting the padawans —the _children_ — to bed to find Padmé's protocol droid waiting for him.

"Good evening, sir," the droid says. "I apologize for our rudeness but Mistress Padmé was in serious condition so Masters Hux and Kenobi took her directly to the medical suite."

"The medical suite? What's wrong?" Bail demands.

C-3P0 attempts to explain and Master Kenobi is kind enough to confirm the details. Bail wishes very strongly for a drink but he doesn't dare. Instead he follows Kenobi down to the observation unit where they can see Padmé lying in the medical suite. Hux is holding her hand, face drawn and pale. He doesn't seem to be aware of anything but the weeping woman on the bed. It's hard to believe, even with Kenobi snarling about Skywalker, that it's a lie.

The medical droid is speaking to him and Bail doesn't hear his response. Kenobi's ears are better.

"Twins?" He stops dead and stares at Padmé. "Are you sure?"

"I am certain, sir," the droid says. "Both healthy."

"Force preserve us," Kenobi rubs a hand over his face. "Twins."

Bail paces back and forth. He feels like an intruder just being here but Padmé's handmaidens have been sent back to Naboo. Her husband...husband, for Force's sake! How could she not tell them? Now her husband is a traitor, a monster and dead! Hux is here, her protocol droid is fussing around with the astromech at his heels and Bail is here. He is not formally family, his upbringing insists weakly but fuck formality.

Kenobi paces the inside of the suite while Bail paces in the corridor. Padmé weeps and Hux talks to her. Bail tries to speak to her but she's barely conscious. Hux's voice isn't even a whisper, a rasping murmur that he barely hears.

Padmé cries out and they all freeze. Bail's poor bruised heart stutters in his chest. Padmé falls silent and her child wails. A healthy babe, thank the Force. The droid cuts the cord and bundles the child with precise care. Kenobi takes it, grief and wonder warring across his face, and brings it to Padmé.

"A son," he says hoarsely.

"Luke," she gasps. Hux raises his head to look at the boy then immediately away. His shoulders shudder. Kenobi rocks the baby, looking as lost as Bail feels. The droid is clucking soothingly as Padmé gasps.

Her second child does not wail. She screams as the droid cuts the cord and Bail knows her for a daughter before the droid announces it. She is put in the crook of Hux's arm as Padmé rolls her head to stare at her.

"Leia," she whispers and the baby goes quiet.

Hux looks down, hair hiding his expression and touches his lips to the baby's head. His eyes close and Padmé sobs. There is a brief lull as the medical droid whirs around and takes both babies to be washed and properly swaddled. Padmé's eyes flutter closed and Hux sags against the bed. Kenobi swishes back to the head of the bed. Hux raises his head slowly

Kenobi catches his eye and stops dead in his tracks. They stare at each other and Kenobi explodes.

"Why didn't you warn us!?" 

"I tried," Hux rasps.

"You should have tried harder!" Kenobi spits. "Thousands of Jedi dead? Palpatine in power? Anakin fallen?"

"It-," Hux shakes his head. "I tried!"

"Not very hard," Kenobi sneers. "If you'd spent less time judging us and more time helping us, this wouldn't have happened!"

"It couldn't be prevented," Hux says wretchedly.

"Then what were you playing at?" Kenobi jabs a finger in Hux's face. "Always so quick to condemn us but never telling us what we needed to know then mocking us for making the best choice we could. You _knew_ Anakin was falling under Sidious's influence! You _knew_ he'd murdered Dooku!"

"You knew it too!" Hux snaps back and Kenobi rocks onto his heels. "You're his kriffing _Master_ and you never thought to ask? He wears everything he's thinking on his karking face and you never _asked_! You knew that he liked Palpatine but you sent him to spy on him with no explanation and no guidance! What did you expect!? Even if he wasn't a Sith with a mind like a kriffing snake, he was a politician! Ani didn't stand a chance and if you'd thought for more than a krelling second, you'd have known that!"

"He was a Knight in his own right," Kenobi says, voice gaining strength. "I trusted him. He never gave me any reason to doubt him! You're the one who faked your death in the Temple! If he hadn't hated us enough then, you certainly put the last nail in that coffin."

Hux flinches, hand rising to press against his chest. Bail steps forward. "Gentlemen, I think-"

He's cut off by a gasp from Padmé that draws all three of them closer. Her lips are moving. Bail can just hear "Ani...help..."

"What...?" Kenobi looks around. Bail shivers suddenly. The lights seem dimmer for a second. 

"Vader fears she's dead," Hux says dully. "He's reaching for her. Sidious must have found him."

"Anakin is _dead_ , Hux." Kenobi says.

"No," Hux shakes his head. "The Sith are many things, most of them vile, but Sidious was the student of Darth Plagueis."

Kenobi sucks in a shocked breath. He looks to Bail who shakes his head. He's never heard that name before.

"Know this name, I do," Master Yoda's voice makes Bail and Kenobi jump. Hux sinks a little lower in his seat. "Very strong was he in the Dark Side. Much evil could he have taught Sidious."

"Master Yoda!" Kenobi comes hurrying around the cot. "You are safe!"

"I am," Master Yoda sighs. "But failed I have. Overcome the Sith, I could not."

"I am glad to see you alive," Kenobi says and Master Yoda smiles at him.

"The only one to survive, I was not. The only one to answer the Senator's call, I also was not."

Bail looks past Yoda and sees Master Jinn, dressed in lightly singed robes and with a bacta patch covering the left side of his face. Kenobi rushes to the older man and they catch each other's elbows and smile.

"Obi-Wan," Master Jinn says with a relieved sigh. "Hux said that he would try to reach you but I feared the worst."

"I think the worst has come to pass," Kenobi says gruffly. "But I am glad to see you, Master."

A shrill alarm from the medical suite cuts off Master Jinn's reply. Bail steps back as the medical droid flies past, dangerously close, leaving the babies in their cots. The auxiliary droid activates with a chime and immediately follows its fellow over to the bed.

"What?" Bail turns to the droids. "What's happening? Is she all right?"

"The primary patient is stable," the droid says in that soft, soothing tone. "The secondary patient is...is not."

"Not stable?" Kenobi turns back to the medical suite. "What's wrong?"

"Unclear," the medical droid extends an arm to support Hux as he tips forward. The man is limp. "There is no reason for his decline but he is still dying."

"What?" Hux slides from his seat, only Padmé's grip on his hand keeping him from falling to the floor. Bail crosses the floor in two steps and helps the medi-droids lift him. The other man is too light, barely more than bones and cloth. Padmé still has that death grip on his hand and Bail can barely keep him in the small seat. The Jedi come hurrying around the cot as the medical droids fuss.

"Feel this, do you?" Master Yoda asks grimly.

"I do," Master Jinn's expression is dark. "It is a foul thing."

"Insidious," Master Yoda agrees. "Time we have not, I think, to break it."

"So much pain," Kenobi murmurs. "How is he not screaming?"

"Losing him, we are," Master Yoda says and Bail thinks he can feel something happening, like the pressure of a storm gathering overhead. "Sidious' work, I can sense. Feel his will in this, very strongly, I do."

"He's not the target," Master Jinn says, a hand hovering just over Hux's bent head. "He's ...he's in the way."

The medical droid lets out a sorrowful chirrup. "We're losing him."

"No," Padmé's eyes open and she gasps, clutching at him. Bail can't shake the sense that there is something else in the room, a thing of darkness and cruelty. 

Bail feels the last of the tension drain out of Hux's body and the younger man slips through his arms and onto the floor. The Jedi jerk back to awareness and there's a momentary chaos. Bail gets an arm under Hux and lifts him. His head lolls back and his lips barely part around the soft hiss of his last breath.

He doesn't need the medical droid's low whine to know that the younger man is gone. Master Jinn lifts his head and there are fresh tears in his eyes. Bail feels all the exhaustion of his hellish two days crash into him at once. Hux's weight seems to evaporate-

Shock makes him clumsy and by the time he looks properly, Hux has vanished. The droids whirr and click while the three Jedi stare at Bail like he's performed some sort of magic trick. He holds his empty arms out as Padmé wails. The droids turn their attention to her and shoo Bail and the Jedi out of the way. Bail staggers back and wonders if the madness of the last two days has finally overcome his reason.

Master Jinn catches him before he can fall and guides him to a seat. Kenobi looks like a ghost and Master Yoda is leaning heavily into his stick. Bail puts his head between his legs and breathes. He can hear the children crying for their mother and Master Jinn rests a hand on his shoulder. 

"Many questions have I regarding this person," Master Yoda says.

"It seems that we may be able to give you answers," Master Jinn says, "at last."

"I don't understand any of this," Bail raises his head. "I would like to hear these explanations."

Master Jinn turns to look at his apprentice and sighs. "I do not have all the explanations but what I have, I will share gladly."

"Let us leave Padmé to recover," Bail says and rises to his feet. He looks at the medical droids who are fluttering back and forth between Padmé and her children. "This way, gentlemen."


	7. Discard Regret

She doesn't see him at first. It's surprising given that every sense she has is straining under the pressure of her paranoia. The girl is sleeping against her shoulder; exhaustion finally triumphing over fear and grief. Asajj keeps her free hand on her sabre and her head down so no-one looks at her.

The transport is crowded, every seat filled with another traveller displaced by the War or a miner returning home for the 'celebrations' of the Founding. The very air feels grey and weary. The troopers who checked their identification were dull, sullen automatons. It had taken no effort to dispel their curiosity.

She had needed more power to dissuade the plump Bothan mother who sat on their row that her weeping charge was not in need. 

"Her family was lost," Asajj said, voice lowered just enough that curious ears could hear, "she is the last."

Not even a lie, she muses. Sidious is a thorough man, despite his other vices. She can't imagine that there were many clones with the will and wit to resist the order. One was already a miracle.

She looks up and catches a glimpse of red hair and stark black. Her heart-rate leaps and she tenses instinctively. The grip of her 'sabre cuts into her hand as her breath shortens. 

He doesn't look at her.

In fact, he doesn't seem to have noticed her at all. His head is bowed, arms folded tightly across his chest and he doesn't move. He doesn't seem to be aware of his surroundings at all.

It is...uncharacteristic, to say the least. Asajj remembers hundreds of encounters across countless planets and ships. Not even Dooku had ever managed to catch the bastard by surprise. She remembers Grevious' rage after yet another failed duel and the pile of droids who hadn't fled. Curiosity gradually wins over her wariness. 

She reaches out.

He jerks back an instant before she can make contact, fast enough that any Force-null would assume she touched him. His eyes fly open and Asajj gets a clear look at his face. His eyes are red and his face is haggard. He looks, she realizes, like she feels and she feels foolish for ever thinking him a threat.

He had always been in the company of Jedi. He had always served the Jedi and their purpose whenever their paths had crossed. He has not come to fight.

His eyes find hers and he straightens a little in his seat. "Sister."

"Red," she acknowledges, stealing a glance at the mundane crowds around them. "I am glad to see you survived."

His lip curls but then he seems to see the small figure bundled against Asajj's side. His eyes widen and he breathes out, hands coming up to cover his face. He shakes a little, barely noticeable as the ship rattles around them. Asajj relaxes a little further.

"Thank the Force," he says softly. "Rex did it."

She stares at him. "You knew?!"

"And could not say," Red says into his hands. "All I could do was help the ones I could and I could not be everywhere at once."

Her biting retort dies on her lips. She is jarringly reminded of the day her Master was murdered and the pain that had torn her world apart. How many Jedi had Red served and protected? She had seen him on almost every battlefield, always working to help and guard them. How many of those Jedi had he seen die?

She extends her senses, now sincerely curious. He has always been elusive to her sense of the Force. His presence was always eclipsed by the shining Jedi or indistinguishable from the dull mass of the clones. She had thought he was a clone the first few times that they met. He isn't a clone, she understands as she absorbs the impressions swirling around him.

He is not of the Dark, she knows immediately. There is something like the gleam of dura-steel and a will harder than Beskar but nothing like Sidious or Dooku's poisonous hunger. He does not seem to be of the Light exactly, something more shadowed but she will have to meditate to know more. Thrumming through his mind and out through the Force that enfolds him, pain and grief as deep as a black hole.

She does not try to ease it. A better Jedi would have dispelled it, guided his mind back to serenity but she does not know how. Instead she sits with him and lets his pain and grief billow around them both. Someone is snoring. Someone else is talking in a thin reedy voice. The ship's engine shudders and chugs under them.

He exhales and lowers his hands. They are shaking, she notes and the parts of him that are not pain and grief feel faded, like he's a ghost. She has a thousand questions but dares not ask even one.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Away," she says. There is a pause and he blinks at her. "That is as far as I have planned."

Mandalore will be under scrutiny from the new Empire, she knows, and not safe for Jedi. She does not know where will be safe for Jedi. If there were other survivors, they will not be kind to her. Her redemption cannot be trusted, she knows. She wants to see the girl safe but cannot imagine where.

"I..." he rubs his face again. "I might be able to help with that, actually. Do you have a datapad?"

She kicks her bag over to him. He pulls out the datapad, pinches the bridge of his nose in thought for a minute and starts tapping away. It takes longer than she expects but he finishes, puts the datapad back in her bag and pushes it back under her seat.

"You'll need to arrange for your own transport," he warns. "A reliable one."

"Thank you," she says and he looks away. The lights overhead flicker and she thinks that she sees something like silvery scars against his pale skin. He looks like a dead man and she feels a shiver run down her spine.

"Be careful," he says and fades into nothing.

* * *

Bail takes the Jedi to the conference room, opens a locked cabinet and pours four cups of the finest Corellian brandy he has on hand. The Jedi take their seats around the table and stare into their cups. Kenobi is the first to move; draining his cup and dropping it on the table.

"What on earth just happened?" he demands of the room, or maybe the Force in general. "I could barely sense the scope of that working before it was completed. What was Sidious trying to do?"

"Think, Obi-Wan," Master Jinn says. "Search your feelings. Who was Sidious targeting?"

Kenobi closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He opens his eyes a moment later, still frowning. "Padmé. It was intended for Padmé. Why would Sidious try to attack her? And like that?"

Master Yoda and Master Jinn exchange a grim look. Master Yoda sighs and clasps his hands in his lap. "Know my thinking, do you, Padawan-mine. Agree with your understanding, I do."

"Hux said that Anakin survived," Master Jinn says.

"That's not possible," Kenobi swallows. "I left him...he was burning. Crippled. He couldn't have survived."

"Not alone," Master Yoda nods. "But alone he was not. Departed after our battle, Darth Sidious did. Arrive in time to save Vader, he might have."

"But he was wounded," Kenobi argues. "I felt his presence flickering like a dying candle."

"Did you feel him die?" Master Jinn asks pointedly and Kenobi shakes his head. "There was -is- a bond between Anakin and Padmé. Remember your training, Obi-Wan. A Force-bond between lovers is a powerful thing. More than enough power to heal Vader if Sidious could take it. A mother's grip on the Force weakens during birth. It would be the perfect way to dispose of her and secure his influence over Vader. His apprentice will not betray him if he has no-one else."

"That's horrific," Bail says and takes a long drink from his cup. He imagines if it were Breha, his love and life, weeping alone on a cot and has to swallow the bile that rises.

"Yes," Master Jinn says simply. "The Sith are horrific in their methods."

"What did he-did Hux do?" Bail demands. "I was there and I didn't see anything."

"Interfered he did," Master Yoda sighs deeply. "Put himself between Padmé and Sidious, he did. Saved her but at the cost of his own life."

"I-" Bail stands and goes for the bottle. "I still do not understand. If you had asked me this morning, I would have told you that Hux was Padmé's paramour. I thought he was the father of her child! Breha and I have spent months wondering why she didn't marry him!"

There is a faintly awkward pause and Master Jinn sighs. "I have known Hux, intermittently, since I was a padawan. He has been abrasive-"

Kenobi snorts then ducks his head when both of his Masters turn to look at him

"-has been abrasive," Master Jinn repeats, "but he has been a great help. I owe him my life at least a dozen times over. Most notably his intervention in Naboo and his warning of Order 66."

Kenobi's brow furrows. "He said. On Naboo, he spoke of Sidious. He was taunting the Sith and he said something about Sidious already replacing his apprentice."

"Yes," Master Jinn says heavily. 

"Very late his warning came," Master Yoda observes sharply.

"He said," Master Jinn shakes his head, "that he was not permitted to warn us earlier. The Force prevented him from acting. I have seen his thoughts, Master, and I believe he was telling me the truth. He was desperate to save the ones he could."

"I agree," Kenobi levitates the bottle to him and refills his cup. "I understand your suspicion, Master Yoda, but Hux has been working alongside the Jedi for years. If he had intended us harm, he could have done so during the war."

"Understand I do not," Master Yoda says before Bail can.

"Hux fought in the war, Master," Kenobi says wearily. "He even fought with you a few times."

Master Yoda frowns for a minute then his eyes widen. "Red."

"Wait, what?!" Bail drops his cup. "The troopers and the children...they said Red died in the Temple!"

"And I believe they were correct," Master Jinn says. "Just as we watched Hux die before us. The Force is all things and I believe Hux is bound by Its Will."

"Matters not does death to the Living Force," Master Yoda says. "If work still remains to be done, neither perhaps is his time among us."

"I believe so," Master Jinn says simply. "Hux is acting on behalf of the Light. I know that and I have faith that he will aid us in the future."

"Perhaps," Master Yoda sighs, "but our own plans must we make. Rely upon the Force excessively we must not. Into exile, I will go. Hunt me, Sidious will. Too great, the risks of harbouring me are. Study the Force, I shall. Into hiding must you go, Obi-Wan. Hunting you, Darth Vader will be. Best it is for us both to disappear. Preserve the Jedi, you must, Qui-gon. Find the other survivors, you will. Safe from Sidious, the young must be. Hide the Senator too, you must."

"What about her children?" Kenobi asks. His Masters exchange a long look and Master Jinn sighs.

"Keep them, she cannot," Master Yoda says sadly. "Too brightly they shine when together they are. Easily found would they be if together they stay and eager would Sidious be to find them."

"You cannot be serious?" Bail sputters incredulously. "She's lost her husband, her home and now you want to take her children?!"

"For their safety, separated they must be," Master Yoda says.

"We will talk with her," Master Jinn promises. "Nothing will happen without her consent, I promise you."

"These are dark times," Kenobi says as he sets aside his cup. "We will all have to do what we can to survive them."

There is no argument he can offer against that. Bail snags the bottle and tops off his cup. He cannot afford to be drunk but even the Force will not begrudge him a little numbness. There is too much misery to face the coming days completely sober. He will have to send a proper message to Breha, make sure that no evidence remains in the base and prepare himself for the long work ahead.

* * *

C-3P0 stands in the medical bay. Mistress Padmé is sleeping. Mistress Leia and Master Luke are also sleeping. He has logged their bio-rhythms and biometrics although those are likely to change rapidly in the coming months. The medical droids orbit their patients quietly. 

R2-D2 beeps quietly, signaling the completion of the data-transfer. C-3P0 processes the data silently. He compresses the vital information and transfers it back. R2-D2 whirrs for a moment, then runs through a selection of truly vile profanities.

"I do not endorse the use of profanity in most circumstances," C-3P0 says, "but in this case, I whole-heartedly agree."

R2-D2 queries if C-3P0 believes Friend:Hux has really been decommissioned. C-3P0 shakes his head.

"Master Hux is a very ingenious human," he says, "and very resourceful. I believe he made contingency plans."

R2-D2 considers this and bobbles agreement. C-3P0 looks at Mistress Padmé and sighs. "I greatly fear that there are hard times ahead. We will need to be ready."

R2-D2 whistles and C-3P0 listens in silence. R2-D2 does not understand the nuances of organic behaviour. He thinks in terms of engines and interlocking systems. His plans are pragmatic but assume a level of logical thinking that organics do not apply in cases of extreme emotion. C-3P0 will have to modify the plans once R2-D2 is ready to listen to feedback.

The door opens and Senator Organa and Masters Jinn and Kenobi enter. They look weary and C-3P0 feels a thrill of alarm. More bad news? Oh dear. Mistress Padmé wakes and the medical droids go to her assistance. Master Jinn and Senator Organa fetch the children while Master Kenobi picks at the damaged threads of his robe.

"Obi-Wan?" Mistress Padmé blinks at him. Her reactions are slow, C-3P0 notes, indicative of the medication being supplied to her.

"Padmé," Master Kenobi looks down. "I am so sorry."

"What-?" Mistress Padmé tries to sit up. "My baby-!?"

"They are well," Master Jinn interjects. "Both healthy...and strong in the Force."

"Oh," Mistress Padmé's eyes fill with tears. "Oh no."

Senator Organa helps her to sit up and she takes her infants in her arms and cradles them close. C-3P0 has no frame of reference for human infants but they seem like attractive children. He politely averts his eyes when the Jedi and Senator Organa do. He has several older protocol guides on the requirements of a new mother, two of them human-related but he is not sure what the correct response is.

"Threepio, could you fetch some water for the Senator?" Master Jinn says.

"Of course, sir!" C-3P0 bows and leaves the room. R2-D2 follows him, beeping urgently. He has remembered organics' propensity to act irrationally and is concerned about their plans. C-3P0 elects to say nothing but he lingers longer than he needs to to allow his back-up protocols to run and adds some additional encryption to ensure the back-ups are protected. There is a lot of information that he thinks needs to be saved.

"It is important," he tells R2-D2, "that we keep proper records."

R2-D2 leans back and looks up at him. C-3P0 looks at the Senator's adjunct who is hurrying past. R2-D2's head swivels to follow his gaze. Then back. R2-D2 beeps an acknowledgement. C-3P0 acquires the water and returns to the medical suite. He can hear Master Jinn speaking before they even enter the corridor.

"-cannot keep the children," he says. "I can hide you, Senator but with your children, well. Even if we had a thousand Jedi to help, I would not be confident in our ability to hide the three of you."

"I cannot simply abandon my children!"

"You are not abandoning them," Master Jinn says. "You are protecting them."

Mistress Padmé bows her head and her children start to wail as her tears fall. C-3P0 wordlessly proffers the water. Master Kenobi takes one of the children and Mistress Padmé takes the cup and drinks. She wipes the tears from her eyes and looks at Master Jinn.

"I may concede your point," she says with all the magnificence of a Queen. "But I will not send my children into danger."

"Breha and I have been intending to adopt," Senator Bail says. "Even the holo-news cycles have picked up on it. There are enough orphans in the wake of the war and it would be a suitable time, with the war over. Alderaan is powerful enough that the Emperor won't be able to act overtly even if he suspects something."

"I do not think you can take both," Master Jinn says. "The risk is too great."

"Leia," Mistress Padmé looks down at the child nestled against her heart. "She's got my colouring. It will be more believable that you chose her."

"What of the boy?" Master Kenobi looks down at the sleeping child, now safely tucked against his mother once more. "Where could we possibly hide him?"

"If I might offer a suggestion?" C-3P0 interjects. "Mistress Shmi's step-family are still living on Tatooine."

"Tatooine? That'll be the first place they'll look!" Senator Organa objects.

"No," Master Kenobi says, folding his arms and chewing on his lower lip. "Anakin's memories of Tatooine are ...not fond. He always blamed himself for failing to save his mother. His time on Tatooine was unhappy and his insecurities would only be more glaring there."

"You mean to raise the boy yourself?" Master Jinn folds his arms thoughtfully.

"No," Master Kenobi looks at C-3P0. "He should be raised by his family but...but I will remain close by. I will keep watch over him until it is safe for him to rejoin you, Senator."

Mistress Padmé looks over the two men with her chin raised and they both bow to her. Her lower lip wobbles and she turns her gaze to Master Jinn. "I...I want until morning, Master Jinn. I want this night with my children. Please."

"The risk-" Master Kenobi starts.

"One more night will not greatly increase the danger," Master Jinn bows to her, "and we have preparations to make."

"Thank you," Mistress Padmé says hoarsely. 

"We will leave you alone," Master Jinn says. "Come along, gentlemen."

R2-D2 nudges against the backs of his knees in a most unsubtle manner. They follow the Jedi and the Senator out of the medical facility. Master Jinn pauses once the doors to the medical suite close behind them. Master Kenobi still looks drawn and mournful. Senator Organa looks exhausted.

"There is still the matter of the droids," Master Jinn says.

"I'll take them," Senator Organa says immediately. "Our household has a thousand droids, our support staff a thousand more. No-one will look twice at them."

"Then they will go with you," Master Jinn nods. "You should get some rest, Senator. You will need all your wits about you in the days ahead."

"Yes, Master Jedi," Senator Organa bows then turns left as the Jedi turn right. C-3P0, with some reluctance, follows him. Senator Organa leads them down a corridor and past helmeted security personnel. He catches one of them by the arm and gestures to the two droids. "Take these droids and tag them as household service assets."

"Yessir!"

"Oh," the Senator pauses and darts a quick glance at C-3P0 and R2-D2 who edges a little behind him. "Don't forget to wipe them first."

"Yessir!"

"Oh my!" C-3P0 raises both hands in protest. The light flashes off his freshly polished shell as he does. The man winces away and doesn't seem to notice the momentary flicker of his photo-receptors as he disconnects his secondary cognitive system and engages the tamper-proofing that Master Hux was kind enough to help him install. He doesn't have time to check with R2-D2 but he will have to trust in R2-D2's strategic thinking. He is not equipped to offer more assistance as the man catches him by the elbow.

* * *

Through the ranks, a whisper runs like a current through a wire. Officers demand answers that never come. The clones and the regular troopers, never friendly, are united in their silence. Graffiti in hidden crannies in every base, safely dabbed where cleaning droids cannot disturb it, reads simply 'Red, remembered always'.

The veterans still paint the inside of their chest plates red. Every defeat, they mutter quietly among themselves. The Empire is mighty. The Empire is victorious. But not every report is accurate. The Imperial officers spend their subordinates' lives like a drunk gambling in a Hutt casino. Dead troopers barely rate a funeral, bodies mined for vital elements and uniforms mostly cleaned before they were re-issued.

It was different once, the whispers say. Once, there was a friend to troopers. Once, they had an ally that never faltered and never forgot them. Then the Republic fell and troopers betrayed him. Red died. They lost him.

Now, the whispers speak of a ghost that walks the battlefield. A shadow that walks through blaster fire like a man walking through the morning mists. A man who does not stop for those who fight but lingers by the dying. There are stories of those who have been taken back from Death's doorstep, who talk of him as a gentle comfort and how their pain eased. Some died by their own hand, unable to bear the pain of life after such ease.

There are other stories. Stories that only a very few officers know. Commander Cody, deep in his cups, talks once. Only once. The story is never spoken of outside of barracks. The ghost that weeps, it is said, carries the grief of the old Republic and has no mercy left for those who usurped it.

Commander Cody, it is said, walked with the ghost in the sack of Ryloth. Some say he hunted the ghost. Some say the ghost hunted him. No-one knows what happened, only that Cody was never the same.

Leave the ghost, the troopers whisper. Red died for the lives of troopers. His life excused their failures. His ghost is not merciful and cannot be placated.

Leave the ghost in peace and never forget. Never forget.

Red died for you.

Remember.

* * *

Every morning, Chirrut goes to the Temple as he always has. He barely needs his stick, so well does he know every turn of the path and broken stair. For the first year, the stormtroopers watch him, noisily following his every move. He is carefully, blandly, consistent. The 'troopers lose interest. A blind man in a ruin is nothing to an Empire that gobbles up a galaxy.

His sisters and brothers, all but Baze, have left him. Some have gone to the Force, some have merely gone from the planet. He prays in their names so he does not forget them. Baze never comes with him.

Baze's loss of faith is an open wound between them. Chirrut does not try to heal it these days. His own faith is too fragile.

Before, he would have gone to a Jedi or joined one of the countless meditation sessions. He would have put his doubts in the hands of others and borrowed some of their serenity. Now he sits in the dust, amid the broken ruins of his world, and prays. He hears nothing, senses nothing and feels the lack as keenly as he had mourned his sight as a boy.

"Thank you for Baze," he prays on the dark days when hope seems useless. That much he can always be grateful for. Baze endures so Chirrut can endure.

In time, the Empire sends new troops. Recruits, not clones. Chirrut does not care for the change. The new 'troopers are only marginally more abrasive. The new officers that accompany them are vile self-important children. They strut through Jedha and steal what little remains to the inhabitants. They mock the hungry, abuse the weak and laugh.

Still, he goes to the Temple as he always has. He is still just a blind old mystic, clinging to a lost past. Someone takes offence and the Empire's lackeys start harassing him. It's all childish little things until the Founding Day celebrations. He hears the tittering before he crosses the first set of stairs.

Chirrut taps along the path, knocking aside small stones. He hears boots behind him and draws a breath. He considers his options. He isn't afraid of pain. Baze isn't here. He could fight but he has no way of knowing how many 'troopers are actually watching. It might end badly. Baze will never forgive him if he ends up dead. He turns the corner into what was once the main chamber

"Hey! You can't go-"

"What _exactly_ do you think you're doing?" The voice that comes from in front of him makes Chirrut freeze. The voices from behind him go silent for a minute and he can almost hear the fear in their heartbeats. "Well?"

"We were-uh, he's an intruder!"

"He's a blind man sitting in ruins," the contempt drives them back a pace. "I hardly think he's a threat to the Empire."

"He might be a Jedi!"

Even Chirrut winces. His unexpected saviour exhales slowly. "The Jedi are dead. As dead as your career will be if you are still here when I finish speaking. Get _out_."

"Yessir!" Boots and armour rattle away and silence creeps back in. He shifts his grip on his stick. He doesn't actually feel safer. An officer who was interested in the Temple was a new development. Still, he moves forward. He can't place the man, not exactly, and it makes him wary.

There's a faint sound, boots shifting in the grit and Chirrut tenses. "I apologise."

Chirrut freezes, and his mouth opens before his brain can kick in. "An Imperial officer apologizing?"

"I'm not an Imperial officer," the man's voice is flat but honest. 

"You give orders like one," Chirrut taps his way closer. He still can't entirely sense the man but he can follow his voice.

"The right accent and mannerisms trigger the conditioning," the man sighs. "I wouldn't risk it over something that their superiors actually cared about."

"That sounds too intelligent to be Imperial," Chirrut stops beside him. "I believe you are not an Imperial officer."

"Thank you," the man says. His voice is confusing; he sounds young but there are echoes and resonances of an old pain and much suffering.

"So the question becomes, what are you?" Chirrut turns his face towards the man. He can sense tension, a military stance and all the swirl of negative emotions. 

There is a long pause as the man considers. "A...visitor."

"Jedha has few visitors since the Republic fell," Chirrut says.

"Jedha?" The man sounds faintly surprised and Chirrut thinks he looks around. "The old Jedi Temple?"

"Not just Jedi," Chirrut bobs a short bow. "Guardians too."

Another pause and the man sighs. "You are very faithful to your duty."

"I have nothing else," Chirrut stops. " _We_ have nothing else. The Jedi are gone. The Temple is gone. Only the Force remains."

The man makes a soft sound, something between a laugh and a sob.

"Do you not believe in the Force?" Chirrut forgets sometimes how much has changed.

"That it exists? Undoubtedly." The man exhales. "That it is worth worshipping? That's debatable."

"The Force does not require our worship," Chirrut says confidently. "Only our attention and acceptance."

The man shifts, the grit under his feet squeaking and his breathing hitches slightly. "I'm not very good at acceptance. That is the heart of the matter."

"I too am not good at acceptance," Chirrut sits and pats the floor beside him. "I am angry. I am hurt. I had a good life here in the Temple. It was taken from me, not because of what I did or did not do, but because of things done a galaxy away."

"I'm sorry."

"I have Baze," Chirrut shrugs off the pity. "I have the Force. It would be greedy to wish for more. I still do."

The man says nothing but there is the faintest rustle of clothing as he hunkers down beside Chirrut. The silence stretches between them but it feels comfortable. Chirrut breathes slowly and deeply as he was taught and the man breathes in time. The air feels cool and restful.

After a few minutes, Chirrut dares to turn his head. "You have been kind enough to listen to my woes. Will you allow me to return the favour?"

The man's laughter is worse than the sobbing of the Guardians as the Temple burned. "There isn't enough time in the Galaxy to recount my mistakes."

"Tell what you can," Chirrut says. "I will listen."

"I did something stupid," the man stands, his voice echoing from the crumbling arches. "I loved someone who didn't love me and I thought I could save him. I failed."

"That is a great woe," Chirrut rises, reaches out and his fingers find stiff fabric and human heat beneath. "Also, a great act of bravery."

"The dead would not agree," the man lifts his hands to his face. Chirrut reaches for the Force, looks for the right words.

"You loved deeply enough to try," he says slowly. "That is bravery. You loved enough that the failure hurt. That is noble. Your journey is not ended. You are still needed and the Force is always with you."

The man shakes and Chirrut touches his arm.

"The Light is beyond the Dark," he says, "and it is with you even in these dark times. We can only endure until the time comes to act. Hope is never in vain." The man shakes his head and Chirrut smells something like wax with the movement. He holds a little tighter. "Hold onto your hope if you cannot trust in the Force."

The man pulls away and Chirrut drops his hand. Outside there is a crack-bang as the Founding Day fireworks start and they both jump.

"I should be getting back," Chirrut says. "Thank you for your help."

"It was nothing," the man's voice does not shake at all. "Be careful with the troopers in future."

"I will," Chirrut turns a slow circle, taking in the Temple for what he suddenly knows will be the last time. The Force is once again strong in his mind. He does not need these stones to hear it. He laughs from the relief of it and stops when it echoes back through an empty room.

The man is gone.

* * *

"Nothing?"

"I'm afraid not, Lord Vader," the mewling child sweats as Vader considers him. His fear sours the Force. He can feel the speed of the man's pulse against his fingertips. It would be easy to crush his throat, end the irritation with a single act of violence.

"Leave." The Admiral salutes and scurries away like a nerf running under a rock. Vader's exhale makes his attendants shiver. "All of you."

"At once, Lord Vader!"

He sweeps past them, into his private chambers. The stumps of his limbs ache from the hours he has spent on his feet and active but he does not turn to the bacta tube for relief. His physical pain is negligible. His Master is busy and there are no pressing matters to distract his attention. His spy network will be busy finding him information to make up for this failure.

There is no place in the Galaxy that Obi-Wan can hide from him.

Vader locks the door and lifts his helmet from his head. The air is unpleasantly hot against his skin and the sound of his respirator is much louder without the helmet to muffle it. He hates the reminder but there are things that he prefers to see with his own eyes.

The small holo-display is hidden in a recessed compartment in the small table. It had been a worthwhile investment; cheaply bought with the deaths of the six technicians who had constructed it for him. No-one living knows of its existence. Sidious may suspect but Vader has given his Master no reason to pry. His Master is wise enough not to take unnecessary risks when his apprentice is concerned.

Vader takes the holo-display out and touches the button to activate it. The colour is not perfect. The images fritz every few seconds but they are sharp enough to cut him to the core.

The first is the lowest resolution; Threepio must have recorded it before Anakin Skywalker acquired his final photoreceptors. Shmi Skywalker, brightly lit by the suns of Tatooine, smiles at her son who is holding up some scrap. Over her shoulder, the faintest gleam of copper-gold. Vader exhales and the image changes.

Padmé, her wedding dress changed to a tapestry of light, smiles at him. No angel of Iego could be a thousandth so beautiful. He has a hundred pictures of her as Queen and Senator, austere and untouchable. This Padmé's smile is radiant and she holds out a hand. Vader lifts his own in answer but the light distorts around it. She laughs, a simple joyous sound and he has to close his eyes to breathe.

"You were right, my love," he tells this shining ghost. "We should have left."

Power is a poor substitute for the warmth of her body against him. He does not sleep in beds despite the bleating of his attendants. A little pain is nothing to avoid the greater horror of waking, alone, to cold sheets. He can still remember the smell of her hair, the soaps she had prefered and the texture of her skin. His hands close into fists.

The holo-display clicks through to the final sequence.

He does not remember this day. It was not on Coruscant, he knows. The background is full of lush greenery that frames the subjects. He does not remember this day so Threepio remembered it for him. Padmé is laughing, turned to the brash young fool of a Jedi who is talking. Her love shines more clearly than the noon suns of his home planet. When had he stopped noticing that? He had allowed Obi-Wan to corrupt his understanding and feed his rage. His once Master had used him to strike at Padmé for the crime of loving him.

The rage simmers but he does not indulge it. He keeps his eyes open instead as Anakin Skywalker bends his head to kiss his wife's neck. The recorder pans to the left and he sucks in a wounded breath as Hux comes into focus. It's a rare smile; Hux is laughing at something, hair disordered in a way that he hated most people seeing.

Padmé had seen him like that. Anakin Skywalker had seen him like that more than any other being in the Galaxy and never stopped to appreciate the gift he was being given. Hux had been quiet and careful around other people. He had prefered the shadows and passed unnoticed where he could. Vader has searched the records, carefully and secretly, and never found a clear shot of him. Just the shadow of his uniform and the occasional glimpse of his hair. A too-tall trooper amid the clones, helmet alway turned away. Threepio had been the only one Hux allowed to record him.

Vader had not known of this file until months after his recovery. Threepio had stored it on his com before the Battle of Coruscant, judging by the timestamps. He had found it during his first respite from his Master's bidding. He had transferred it to this holo-display and devoted nearly three weeks of work to hiding it.

He does not know how much more Threepio recorded. Obi-Wan had seen to that. It was not enough to kill Padmé, not enough to take her body back to Naboo where self-righteous strangers buried her and their child as if they had the right! He had not even been content to leave Vader burnt and dying on the banks of Mustafar's fiery rivers. He had taken Threepio and R2-D2 too, taken the last things that had been Anakin's and destroyed them.

Vader has had years to think of how he will repay the Jedi's spite. His hate kindles in his chest and he lifts a hand as the recorded-Hux joins the lovers and they laugh together.

"I will avenge you," he promises for the ten-thousandth time. His voice echoes around the empty room. "I am sorry."

* * *

Breha smiles at her daughter as her attendants lead her away and turns back to her guest.

"She has much of her mother in her," Master Jinn says with a slight smile.

"Yes," Breha touches the small device on her desk and waits for it to complete its activation cycle before she continues, "and how is Padmé?"

"Alive," Master Jinn says. "She is doing important work for the Rebellion. She has saved many lives."

"Does Vader suspect?" Breha asks. It remains her greatest fear. The monster that Palpatine made of the former Jedi terrifies her. Her fear has only grown as Leia does. She is so clearly her parents' child; Padmé's beauty and her father's reckless courage. Breha fears every visit by any Imperial who knew General Skywalker.

"No," Master Jinn says soothingly. "Vader believes his child is dead alongside their mother. I have felt his rage. And his grief."

"I should feel sorry for him," Breha says. "I cannot manage it."

"Your feelings are understandable," Master Jinn says placidly. Breha almost wants to justify herself but just looking at Master Jinn makes her feel petty and small. She does not want to give up her antipathy to Vader but she doesn't want to disappoint the Jedi either. Her mother, Force rest her soul, had been a mistress of that particular expression.

"I do have some news," she says instead. "Nothing relevant to the Rebellion but..."

"But?"

"Leia wandered off a few days ago," Breha says, feeling an echo of the terror she'd felt. "My attendants say that she was not alone when they found her. A very striking young man was standing by the door. They didn't see him leave and he did not appear on any of the security footage but they are sure they would recognize him again. After all, red hair is almost unheard of on Alderaan."

"Hux," Master Jinn sighs. 

"I cannot be sure," Breha warns him. "I never met Hux."

"Who else could it be?" Master Jinn asks. "He did more than any to ensure Leia and her brother were safely born. And he paid a heavy price."

"It worries me," she says candidly. "From everything that Bail has said to me, I cannot believe that it is a good omen to see him."

"These are dark times," Master Jinn says, "and whatever else Hux has done, he has served the Force. I believe that he will help us set the Galaxy to rights."

"I hope you're right, Master Jinn," she says and reaches for her datapad. "Now, about the supplies that are needed...."

* * *

She's seen him so many times. Never for long. Padmé huddles into her long coat and stares at the fire. The flames remind her of Hux. She wishes she had been able to thank him. Her memories of the birth are spotted and fractured but she remembers him. It had helped, she thinks, to have someone who grieved for Ani as she did.

She even knows that he saved her. Master Jinn had told her nearly a year later.

"Do not think unkindly of Obi-Wan," he had asked. "He was in shock and angry. He did not understand what had happened."

"I don't," she had said. She still doesn't blame Obi-Wan. His own guilt is crushing enough even if she wanted to see him suffer. She only thinks that it is a great pity that he lashed out at Hux. 

Her own impulse is to protect her own and she thinks it was a good thing that Master Jinn had only told her once half a galaxy separated her from Obi-Wan. Bail had told her how Hux had vanished, faded like a ghost. Obi-Wan had left the room as Bail spoke, agitation and grief making him clumsy and vicious. Just like Hux, she thinks.

She doesn't blame Hux either. He'd loved Ani and been terrible at expressing it. She'd always known that. She's even learned to forgive him for not telling them about the risks. She wonders sometimes if he tried. She remembers the heat of Tatooine’s suns and the empty sleeve of his jacket. She remembers the venom in his voice and how little it had hidden the pain. She believes he had sincerely tried to save Shmi then. How much more had the Force punished him for trying to save Ani?

She has so many questions but when she sees him now, it is never for long. Hux appears, like an ill omen or a guardian spirit, when there is danger. She's sure that he has saved her life a dozen times but he's never lingered.

Even on this mission, which should have been a routine supply run, she had nearly been arrested. She had seen a flash of red hair before two blaster bolts punched through the helmets of the stormtroopers holding her. She'd run as chaos erupted. Now she sits in front of her fire as rain beats down on her rickety tent and damp seeps up from the marshy ground.

_I would like to ask him,_ she thinks, _about the man he loves._

The list of questions she has for him changes with the day and her mood but that question is paramount. She had thought Hux incapable of love when she met him. Now, she wonders more about the man who did not want his love. She wants to know about him and how Hux could love him enough to justify the torment he'd put himself through.

She sneezes and huddles a little more into her coat. It is getting cold. This planet's sun is weak and far enough away that the night will last hours more. She tells herself that she will put her pot on the fire in a minute. She'll just rest her eyes...

"-ffing family," a voice. Padme stirs. The voice is in her ears. She feels it vibrate against her back. "-sense the Force gave an Ewok!"

She feels a distant panic. Then relaxation. She knows that voice. She gives up trying to open her eyes. Something settles around her. She coughs and the voice vibrates against her back again as she is pulled upright.

"-how you survived this long." The voice is quiet. "I should have known that stubbornness was genetic."

Padme drinks the hot tea that is brought to her lips and sags into the solid warmth that is supporting her. Her eyes won't stay open and she's very cold suddenly. An arm settles around her and she sighs.

There is a pause. Padme's eyes are sticky and she's so tired. She feels the vibration first. Then the sound of humming. The song is familiar, an ache under her ribs and Padme listens until sleep steals her away.

When she wakes, her camp is neatly laid out with a cup of fresh, clear water on a tuft of grass beside her. She has a strange blanket wrapped around her and there is a depression in the soft earth beside her that might have been left by a man. Padme blinks back tears and turns to pack up. Her contact will be waiting.

* * *

"Master Jinn?"

Qui-gon releases his focus and opens his eyes. He offers a smile to the woman standing in the door. "Yes, Major Bey?"

"We're nearly ready," Shara Bey says, rubbing a hand over her face.

"Excellent," Qui-gon rises creakily to his feet. He has gotten too old to spend hours kneeling on a durasteel floor. Master Yoda prefers to confer through the Force; Dagoba is distant from more conventional communication channels. Qui-gon also rather likes the peace of meditation. Life under the Empire becomes more oppressive with each succeeding day. He shivers a little in the chill of the badly maintained station.

_I almost envy you, Obi-Wan,_ he thinks and is rewarded with his padawan's bright laughter.

_I hardly see much to envy, Master. In fact, I believe that sand is the most insidious agent of the Dark Side._

Qui-gon smiles, opening his mind to his padawan's curiosity. He knows how Obi-Wan chafes at the restrictions of his endless vigil. The younger Jedi yearns to play a more active role for all that he is the best of them and most suited to his task. He feels Obi-Wan's sigh in his own chest. _Still no consensus?_

_The Alliance agrees that action is needed,_ Qui-gon thinks. _They only disagree on what action needs to be taken._

_I am reminded of the Republic Senate,_ Obi-Wan thinks sourly. _Unpleasantly so._

_I agree,_ Qui-gon thinks, discarding the impulse to encourage. Obi-Wan has not been a padawan for many years. He turns to collecting his scant belongings. He suppresses an entirely irrational twinge of nostalgia for his robes. More than fifteen years and he still feels exposed, like he's playing a part, in more normal clothes. Aften a moment of hesitation, he tucks his lightsaber under a fold of cloth. He feels immediately better for the weight on his belt.

_Have you Seen something, Master?_ Obi-Wan reads his discomfort. Qui-gon considers the reassuring lie then opens his mind to the other. Obi-Wan's mind is sharp with worry. _My apologies, Master._

_Forgiven, my friend,_ Qui-gon opens the door. The station is old and the hydraulics hiss and spit as the doors rattle apart. It should not alarm him when the walkway shudders underfoot with other steps. He draws the hood of his coat higher, reaching out through the Force. Sharp, unnaturally rigid thoughts marching through minds like jagged steel traps. He recoils, stumbling over his own feet and hurrying back down another hallway. Sidious's Jedi-Hunters! Obi-Wan's fear crackles in his head and Qui-gon sends a wordless reassurance.

He tries to keep his face hidden, bundling his coat up and keeping his gaze on the floor while peering around for Major Bey. There's no general panic yet. The Hunters must be trying to be inconspicuous. He still has time. He quickens his step. Obi-Wan is silent but his worried presence persists.

_They might sense me,_ Obi-Wan thinks reluctantly. _Or the connection at least._

_They have no true Sensitivity for the Force,_ Qui-gon assures him. Obi-Wan frets so and this assurance is worth the slight risk. He looks around sharply at footsteps hurrying up behind him.

"Ma- _Jinn_ " Major Bey catches his elbow, casting a worried look back the way she'd come. "We need to go. Now."

"I agree." He lets her lead, trying to not to feel like there is a breath on the back of his neck. He extends his awareness through the Force. The Force is still and cold, his sense of the other sentients on the station seeming as distant as stars seen through a viewport.

_This bodes ill,_ Obi-Wan thinks. Qui-gon agrees. Major Bey puts a hand on her blaster. Qui-gon brushes his fingers against his lightsaber. He dares not draw it.

With every step, the snare of dread closes tighter around his heart. He breathes evenly and tries to release his anxiety into Force. They come to a vaguely familiar intersection and Qui-gon breathes a sigh of relief. Then the crowd parts and he sees the flash of red hair.

Hux is standing by a narrow viewpoint, arms clasped behind his back and gaze on the distant stars. The station's inhabitants move around him without looking at him. They seem genuinely unaware. Qui-gon's initial stab of dread gives way to an ache of compassion. Hux looks ...reduced. His bearing is stiff as ever but the angle of his shoulders speaks of despair and exhaustion.

_He looks so **young**_ , Obi-Wan puts Qui-gon's feelings to words.

As if he hears them, Hux turns his head. Pale eyes widen and he looks down the other hallway. Qui-gon's dread crystalizes. He grabs Major Bey's shoulder, pulling her back as the first bolt cuts through the air in front of her.

"Stop! In the Name of the Emperor!"

Qui-gon manages to turn the barrels of the first line of stormtroopers. He is groping desperately for his lightsaber while pulling Major Bey away. He doesn't see Hux move, just hears the clatter of armour and feels the shudder of bodies hitting the walkway.

"Stop!"

"Submit in the name-!"

"SHOOT HIM!"

Qui-gon looks back to see a confusion of white, black and red. Major Bey fires around him. She pulls him down a narrow corridor. The station's inhabitants are scattering. Qui-gon frees his 'saber as more blaster fire rings out from adjoining corridors.

_I am too old for these escapades,_ Qui-gon thinks and Obi-Wan's burst of laughter rings genuine, despite the terror.

He hears a cry from behind them. "There he is! The Jedi!"

Running footsteps. Stars, how did so many of them creep aboard the station? Qui-gon's lungs are burning. His scar is a hot coal crushing into his ribs. His stances lose their crispness. Fatigue wins over training. Major Bey's shots come less frequently. Qui-gon can taste her desperation on the back of his tongue. They are running out of places to run.

Another intersection. Girders crowd the ceiling, narrowing his limited movements further. White-armoured bodies crowd the corridors on all sides. Major Bey’s blaster fires once. Then the low whine of an expended charger. Qui-gon knocks a scattering of bolts aside. 

A clank from behind him. Qui-gon turns to see a flame-trooper raising their weapon. Then a blaster fires twice. Two troopers fall. Then the flame-trooper lurches and topples forward, the hilt of a narrow knife sticking out of the back of their helmet.

" _Run_ , for kriff's sake!" Hux snarls. He's standing. Barely. His savage gesture is emphatic. Qui-gon pushes Major Bey into a run. There is a second, maybe two, where Qui-gon thinks they're going to make it.

Hux's wordless cry of warning comes just a second too late. Qui-gon knocks the detonator out of the air. It hits a girder. Bounces...

The explosion collapses the world around them. The girders fall with a screech of metal. Qui-gon shoves the Major forward. She tumbles through a doorway. Then a girder crashes down across his back. The pain is blinding.

"Master Jinn!" Major Bey regains her feet. A cascade of sparks drives her back.

Qui-gon breathes in. He feels the crackle of his ribs and the wet gurgle of his lungs. The pain is electrifying and he struggles to release it into the Force. He can't feel his legs. He's dying. Obi-Wan's grief floods the Force and he feels another, aching despair.

He half-turns his head. Hux is a mass of jagged angles, all his precise lines broken beyond repair. Half a girder skewers his chest but Qui-gon sees him breathe in. Compassion drowns his fear. He lets go of his 'saber, lifting it to Major Bey's hand with the last of his strength. It feels like he's set down a crushing burden and he strains to fill his lungs. "Go. Go now!"

The Major hesitates, sorrow shining in her eyes. But she is a soldier, a superb one. She grabs the 'saber, lingers long enough for a formal salute and runs. Qui-gon feels the reverberation of her steps recede. He turns to the broken man pinned less than a metre from his side, reaching with the Force and a shaking hand both.

Hux is shockingly lucid. His body is shattered, agony pulsing through his frame. He barely seems to feel it, mind buckling under a crushing sense of worthlessness.

_Weak. Useless._ The words feel like a memory. Qui-gon tries to reach for him, then sucks in a pained breath at the deluge of memories. Shmi Skywalker, blood on her face: a Gungan with their neck broken: Mace's dead eyes staring up at the ceiling of the Chancellor's quarters: the Temple, small bodies strewn like rags in the halls: Padmé Amidala weeping under the lights of the medical suite. _Can't save anyone. Failed. Everything is worse. Useless. Failure._

Qui-gon strains to touch a broken hand, fumbling to project assurance. Hux doesn't look at him. Qui-gon sees the tear that trails down his cheek. He's lost in his memories and pain. Qui-gon's fingertip brushes the back of a gloved hand and Hux fades. Uniform, hair and all.

_Master?_ Obi-Wan calls for him. Qui-gon reaches back, lets Obi-Wan banish the last of his pain. He tries to summon the words but his mind is empty. His diplomat's tongue finally stilled. Obi-Wan is weeping. Qui-gon reaches out, like his padawan is still the radiant boy he once was. _Master, please._

Qui-gon can feel the flow of the Living Force around him, a gentle undertow tugging him away from his pain. 

_Don't mourn,_ he thinks to Obi-Wan, trying to project something of the serenity sweeping away his fear and pain. _This is not a goodbye, only a parting of the ways. I will be with you, always, in the Force._

Obi-Wan's grief flows into the Force and Qui-gon lets himself slip away. The last thing he hears is the girders falling through the space his body had occupied.

* * *

The suns are setting when Owen sees the man coming walking in from the sands. He sighs and turns to call Beru out from the sheds. Relief wars with exasperation. Beru comes hurrying up with a soft blanket. The heat of the day is vanishing fast.

The red haired man holds Owen's sleeping nephew against his shoulder. Owen accepts the lad, letting Beru bundle Luke away to bed. He ducks inside long enough to grab a narrow bottle of rotgut. Beru is fussing over Luke, all her worry channeled into fussing.

"He's growing too big to be carried," Owen says as he comes outside.

Hux is kneeling by the slight depression that marks Shmi's grave. Owen sighs and offers the bottle. Hux doesn't even look at him. Owen crosses to stand by his side. He waits until Hux stands up. Then he holds out the bottle.

"Do I even want to know where he was this time?"

Hux takes the bottle, turning it over in his hands. He doesn't open it. "Nearly to the Jawa camp."

Owen rubs his face. The boy isn't even halfway grown yet. He takes the bottle out of Hux's hands and takes a drink. The stuff is fouler than he remembers but it stings. He coughs and sputters a little. Hux turns to look at him.

"Will you not come in?" Owen says.

"I shouldn't," Hux says, looking out over the empty sands.

"Come in," Owen says. "Beru would like to see you."

Hux hesitates and Owen tugs on his arm. Hux is still taller than him but he's thin as an aerial. "I..."

"We haven't talked in years," Owen says. "If you don't have to go, we'd like to talk to you now. You taught me how to repair my speeder, you came to our wedding and after..., well, after everything, you disappeared."

Hux looks down at the grave and Owen squeezes his arm. His hands curl into fists and he tips his head back. "You're right. I don't know if I can stay long but I will stay as long as I can."

"Then come in," Owen gestures to the brightly light doorway. Hux looks at the grave once more before he turns to where Beru is waiting. Owen follows behind him, talking about his droids and the trouble they've been having with some of the smugglers down from Mos Eisley. Hux listens, offering the very occasional remark and he bows to Beru who flutters around him.

He doesn't eat any of the dinner but he talks with Owen about engine repairs and tells Beru that she's raising Luke to be a fine young man. Owen talks some about his father. Hux had been a silent shadow at the funeral, gone before anyone could approach him. He listens quietly and when Owen runs out of words, Hux says "He was a good man. He did his best. The Galaxy would be a better place if there were more men like him in it."

Owen has to clear his throat three times before he can trust his voice. He's grateful that Hux doesn't look at him. He does hug Hux when the dinner ends and the other man stands to go. Hux is still stiff and awkward but he pats Owen's back.

"You should start teaching him how to repair engines," Hux says in the doorway. "He's a clever boy."

"We'll see," Owen says and Hux walks back out into the dark. He exchanges a glance with Beru as she clears the table and he shuts off the main generator for the night. He wakes late the next morning and hears Beru talking to Luke.

"-and if you're very good, your uncle is going to take you to the repair shed."

"Really?!" Luke sounds excited and he turns a brilliant smile on Owen as he comes out to the kitchen. “The repair shed for real?”

“If you’re a good boy and eat all of your breakfast,” Owen says gruffly. “The motivator on CR-77’s gone and I could do with a second pair of hands.”

“I can help!” Luke says even as he tries to fit his entire breakfast into his mouth at once.

“Don’t eat so fast,” Beru chides. “You’ll choke and then you’ll be no use to anyone.”

“‘M sorry, Auntie Beru,” Luke swallows and continues eating more slowly. Owen catches Beru’s eye as she covers her smile with a hand. Luke is already starting to talk about what he knows about motivators with great enthusiasm and no actual knowledge. Owen hides his own smile behind his breakfast and listens with a fond ear as his nephew chatters away.

* * *

Galen accepts his tray from the commissary technician and turns to look around the small canteen. There are two tables' worth of supply pilots today and every table has at least three people seated. His own technicians are laughing and talking of yesterday's inspection by Director Krennic.

He turns away, unable to stomach inane conversation. Krennic had kept him close at hand for the whole inspection and Galen finds he is listless and weary even after a night alone. His dreams were of Lyra and Jyn, as they always were. They had been home, tending the fields. Lyra had chased Jyn, both laughing. Galen had seen their smiles before the Death Star crested the horizon and the world went dark. He had woken four hours before his alarm, stuck to his sheets with sweat and even now, acid burns the back of his tongue.

He takes his tray to one of the small observation niches. They show nothing but the jagged rock face and the endless rain; artifacts of the standardized Imperial blueprints for research buildings. No-one lingers here to watch him pick at the slop on his tray. He listens to the steady drumming of the rain and is reminded of his home and wet nights with his wife beside him and his daughter sleeping down the hall.

He doesn't see the man at the window until he sets his fork down. Surprise makes him clumsy and the man looks over his shoulder long enough for Galen to see pale eyes. Then he looks back out the window.

Galen doesn't recognize him. He searches his memories of Krennic's flunkies in vain. Surely he would have noticed the man's red hair? The uniform he's wearing is black but Galen can just make out rank stripes on his sleeve where it folded against his chest. An officer then, but there are no bars on his chest that Galen can see.

He finishes his meal and takes up his tray. The man at the window does not look back again. Galen can see the pale shadow of his reflection but the face is still unfamiliar. He returns his tray and when he comes back down the hallway, the man is gone.

Galen sees him again, never in the labs or the briefing rooms, always by the windows. Nobody else mentions their black-clad guest. Some stormtroopers get ordered away and Galen hears the echo of the order. The accent is High Imperial and the inflection and tone are closer to Grand Moff Tarkin's clipped speech than Krennic.

Perhaps the stranger is a spy for Tarkin. Galen doesn't dare challenge him. He doesn't think, in the honesty of his own private thoughts, that he would want to. The stranger is young but there is something harder than kyber at his core. He puts Galen oddly in mind of Lyra, sharp and fierce. That train of thought makes him maudlin and he distracts himself with work.

The day before Krennic comes to oversee the final installation, Galen works late. Even the stormtroopers are drowsing at their posts when he finally completes his work. He carries the small data-card in his breast pocket to the communications tower. He makes it almost the whole way there before he stops.

He touches the pocket that contains the datacard and turns aside, finds an observation niche and sits down heavily. Exhaustion mingles with despair. He wonders if he is fooling himself, even now. A thread to redeem the monstrosity of his work. A weakness in theory alone, perhaps. Another comforting lie told to keep his conscience in line. Has he been deluding himself?

"She is still alive." The voice shocks him upright.

"What?" The stranger is standing at the window. This time he turns to face Galen. His black uniform is impeccable, his stance Academy-perfect and his eyes are cold. Galen's heart freezes in his chest.

"Your daughter," the stranger says. "She parted company with Saw Guerrera but she lives."

"My daughter..." Galen's eyes sting with tears. The Empire knows that Jyn is alive. They know where she is.

"They don't." The man says.

"I don't understand," Galen says slowly.

"Your Death Star is ready to be built," the man says, unfolding his arms from behind him. Galen counts three stripes on his sleeve. "Tarkin will use it to murder billions. If you don't send those plans, the Emperor will use it to murder trillions."

"It is meant to be a deterrent-" Galen starts, Krennic's words falling too easily from his lips.

"The Emperor is a paranoid, delusional derelict who fears his own shadow," the man says contemptuously. "Such men do not build planet-destroying superweapons for show."

Galen's jaw falls open. He's never heard anyone, not Lyra, not _Saw_ speak so insultingly of the Emperor. This General cannot possibly be part of the Empire. Vader would have killed him a thousand times for such insubordination. "Who are you?"

"Nobody," the man flashes his teeth in a bitter smile.

"How could you know?" Galen demands. "How could you know any of this?"

"Palpatine can hide his actions from the Senate," the man says. His mouth twists into a sneer. "The Force is not so easily fooled."

"A Jedi?" Galen can't imagine it. This man would have been an infant at his mother's breast when the Republic fell.

"No," the man shakes his head. "If you save the plans, the Rebels will find them. Your daughter will find them. The Death Star will be a devastating loss."

"The Empire will hardly suffer," Galen says bitterly, his despair welling up again.

"Not materially," the man's smile is razor-edged. "But the loss of the Death Star will cost them in the eyes of the people underfoot. The Empire is invincible, they believe. The Rebels are fools who will inevitably be ground down as all other planets and systems have been. What will it mean, I wonder, if the Empire's great weapon falls to such a group?"

Galen stops. The thought, now that it's been presented to him, unwinds logically. A weapon built without the Senate's approval, destroyed by the Alliance, would be devastating to the Empire's prestige. The loss of materials would be negligible but a fully-functional weapon lost might even force the Emperor to address the Senate.

"It will spread hope," the man says softly, like he's telling Galen a secret. "Across a million worlds, people will wonder how such a powerful weapon can be beaten and they will look outside their doors where the troopers and officers are. Not all of them will pick up a blaster. But enough will."

Galen presses a hand against his chest and lets himself imagine it. How quickly things could spread. He thinks of Saw and imagines what his old friend would do in the face of such an opportunity. Then a thought strikes him. "But the Rebels don't know. No-one knows."

"No-one knows yet," the stranger turns back to the window and Galen moves to stand beside him. He doesn't know how to put his desperate need into words. A gloved hand reaches out to tap the window. "Do you really think you're the only one with an uneasy conscience?"

Galen looks and sees the gleam of shuttle landing lights. His breath catches and he thinks immediately of the pilots who fly the routine supply run. Aventor and Rook. Good men who are woefully underused by Krennic. The stranger refolds his arms.

"Nothing matters, Galen Erso, if the plans are not updated."

He looks at this strange Force-sent General and he nods. If the stranger is lying, there will be 'troopers and interrogation droids waiting. If he isn't...Galen taps his datacard and the stranger inclines his head.

"She will be very proud of you," he says and turns back to the window.

Galen walks to the communication tower with his head held high and his back straight. The droid takes the datacard and uploads it for transfer immediately, trilling a polite confirmation to Galen less than three minutes later. Galen nods, pivots and walks out the door. Nobody is waiting for him, no hand comes down on the back of his neck and the pair of stormtroopers passing on their rounds salute him.

He does not see the stranger at the window again.

Three days later, he accepts his tray from the commissary technician and looks around at the canteen. He crosses to the table by the door and sets his tray down. The young man seated there looks up in surprise.

Galen smiles. "Bodhi Rook, isn't it?"


	8. Dark Before the Dawn

Day and night on Dagobah are merely shades of grey. The mists make everything clammy and damp. The abundant growth of the trees and vines thrums through the Force. The mud is everywhere and he must clean every day. The tasks are beyond menial but Yoda finds them enriching to his greater purpose. It is hard to remember that once he had guided the fates of entire systems. None of that vanity survives here.

He communicates with the others only infrequently. He might not do even that, so sure is he that his time is past, if his Padawan had not asked it of him.

His grief is still fresh, even with Qui-Gon still a living Presence within the Force. It is best that he does not teach the new Jedi. He is a failure. He can only hope to reach a greater understanding through meditation and contemplation. Dagobah with its abundant and unthinking life is a perfect refuge.

It is why he does not comment on those days when he comes out of his hut to find a heart-weary figure sitting by the swamp. He is humbled by the pain and exhaustion that swirls around Hux and none of his questions have an answer that would be worth adding to that pain.

Yoda sits in silence with the man and hopes that his presence helps.

* * *

The first time Leia accompanies Bail to Coruscant, Breha comes with them. It stirs the usual scornful reaction from Palpatine's chorus of sycophants. Breha says nothing and pretends not to hear the sniggering about her mothering. Bail has to be restrained from calling several of the loudest lickspittles out on the Senate floor. Breha allows the voracious news crews to capture many pictures of her and her daughter, solidifying Leia's position as her daughter.

She thinks it is going well, until they go to the Senate to join Bail as some meaningless bill is debated and run into Darth Vader, sweeping through the corridors of the Senate.

Breha's attendants flatten themselves against the walls, eyes on the floor. Breha herself stops in place and only a sharp awareness of her position keeps her from flinching. Vader towers over them, breath hissing through that ghoulish mask and Breha can feel her heartbeat in her throat. Leia, her beautiful, precious girl, plants her feet and tips her chin up.

"Queen Organa," Vader rumbles and looks down at Leia. "Princess."

"Lord Vader," Leia's tone hovers just short of contemptuous and she doesn't flinch when Vader looms over her.

There is a drawn out second where terror drives every thought from Breha's mind then Vader makes a rough sound; a scoff, perhaps. "Your daughter does not lack courage. A shame I cannot say the same for intelligence."

Leia opens her mouth but Breha seizes her shoulder. Leia's lips purse into a pout that would not have been out of place on her blood-father's face. Breha draws on every second of training and lifts her chin as regally as possible. "Do not let us keep you, Lord Vader. No doubt the Emperor expects you."

Another static hiss and Vader sweeps past them without saying another word, his red-robed attendants scuttling after him. Breha takes a deep breath and silences Leia's immediate reaction with another squeeze of her shoulder.

"Later," she tells her daughter and leads her party the rest of the way to Bail's box on shaking legs. She does not sleep for the rest of their time on Coruscant but Vader takes no further interest in any of them. She doesn't trust it and she has never been so happy to return to Alderaan, Bail by her side.

* * *

Someone talked.

Cassian doesn't know who or when. He just knows the sound of marching boots and the panic that sends his entire cell running for the shadows. He runs too. He doesn't know this city or the planet. He's been here three days. He doesn't know his way around and he knows, even as he runs, that he's doomed. He's already looking for places to hunker down and he has his blaster in hand. If he's smart, he can make them shoot him.

Better a blaster bolt than the long slow death that the Inquisitors would give him.

Cassian looks over his shoulder. Then a hand seizes his collar and he's hauled off his feet. Cassian hits the ground hard enough to wind himself. He is rolled quickly under a tarp and he freezes instinctively. There are stars dancing in front of his eyes and the alley is dark and reeks of trash. His attacker? Saviour? is a shadow in the mouth of the alley. Cassian can't see any details really, still trying to gasp in a proper breath as quietly as he can.

The only thing he sees before the stranger takes off, with white-armoured stormtroopers behind them, is a flash of red hair.

He lies in the alley, too frightened to move, for three hours before he ventures out to find the 'troopers are chasing a ghost. He finds the survivors of his cell at the port and they leave before dawn. Cassian doesn't mention his rescuer but he sees Major Dathuyi dab red paint on the inside of her shirt before she calls the Alliance to let them know what happened. It's a habit a lot of the older Rebels have and Cassian's never really understood why. He thinks now that he might understand a little.

Cassian sews a small red patch onto the inside of his shirt two days later, when he gets his next assignment.

* * *

Obi-Wan has gotten into the habit of rising before dawn. Tatooine's heat is sharpest during the dual-noon hours and he finds it less tiring to just sleep when the heat is sharp. Most of his few dealings with the locals are at night when it is cool enough to travel and he keeps the number of dealings as low as possible. He does nothing that is not needful these days, ever vigilant to the risks of his position.

This morning, there is a cool mist in the air that makes his old scars ache. Obi-Wan rises reluctantly, only years of personal discipline keeping him from just rolling over and going back to sleep. He pulls on his robe and shivers. Tatooine is rarely cold but in these grey hours where the suns have yet to rise, there is a bitterness to the chill.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," his Master's voice seems to come from outside his little hut. Obi-Wan bites back a groan. His Master's presence is always welcome but he cannot summon any enthusiasm for lessons today. The Living Force is wondrous but Obi-Wan cannot face it today. He is immediately, miserably guilty.

His Master looks hale and hearty, barely any silver in his beard and only the faint nimbus of blue betraying his nature. In the grey light of the pre-dawn, he might be a living man. If Obi-Wan reached out, he can almost believe that he would feel warm flesh and blood. He curls his fingers into the sleeves of his robe to suppress the impulse.

"No lesson today, Obi-Wan," his Master says and smiles. "Come sit with me."

Obi-Wan shivers a little but it is comforting to sit with his Master's Presence so close. They look out over the dunes together and Obi-Wan watches the light catch slowly on the edges of the horizon, turning the sand to gold glass. The faint heat of it builds in the air as the dawn gathers strength.

"It is beautiful," he says and his Master hums.

"There is beauty to be found in even the harshest corners of the Galaxy," Qui-Gon says. "It is easy to lose sight of that, I think, but it is worth remembering."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan says. "We could- I mean, I do need further instruction. We could have a lesson now."

"We could," Qui-Gon acknowledges. "But I would rather spend this time with you. I have missed our time together."

Obi-Wan has to swallow and blink very rapidly before he can muster the composure to reply. "I-me too. I would like that, Master."

The suns rise slowly and his Master sits peacefully beside him. For a few precious hours, it feels like all is right with the Galaxy.

* * *

C-3P0 does not avail of his rest cycles often. Alderaan is a commendably orderly environment and his duties, as the princess' protocol droid, are hardly arduous. He is aware of the increased scrutiny that he is subject to when he is in her presence and takes great care not to allude to any information that he should not have retained. It is well within his capabilities but it is tiring in an entirely irrational way that cannot be remedied with additional charging time.

He misses Master Anakin. He is aware that Darth Vader would most likely destroy him utterly but that fear does not displace the desire to see his first Master again. He misses Lady Padmé as well although there, he finds he misses the combined presence of her and Master Anakin. Their happiness and pleasure from being in proximity was wonderful to see.

He misses R2-D2 too. The astromech is constantly nearby but C-3P0 must be circumspect whenever any of the Queen's staff are close enough to notice any anomalous behaviour. R2-D2 is known to have retained his memories, after all and they must be careful that Senator Organa does not suspect that he has been sharing that data with C-3P0. Consequently they are careful not to spend too much time together.

He finishes charging and elects to disconnect and go to check on the princess. It is almost certain that she is well but he has an entirely irrational urge to verify it for himself. His programming has always inclined him to rapid social-bonding; concern for his owner's well-being makes him more efficient and diligent in his work. He has never formed any attachment so quickly or so strongly to any of his owners as this. Princess Leia reminds him almost painfully of her father with her mother's beauty. His admiration is always tempered with fear in these bleak times.

The doors to the princess's suite open silently; something he finds disconcerting rather than convenient. He enters as quietly as his joints permit and has to stop short as he refocuses to peer through the screen into the main room. The princess is asleep on the couch, sprawled out and snoring with the unshakeable confidence of a child. Another similarity with her father.

What stops him in his tracks is the figure standing by the window, almost invisible in the shadows.

Master Hux doesn't look at him and C-3P0 has time to turn aside. He goes to the next room where a service droid is happy to inform him that the princess's security detail is currently stationed outside her rooms and is not expected to enter until ten minutes before the princess's alarm.

"Thank you," C-3P0 says seriously. "I will require one large cup of taurine tea, please. Two tea-spoons of honey if you'd be so kind."

The service droid lacks the processing capacity for curiousity, thank the Maker. It burbles cheerfully and rolls out of the room, returning with the requested beverage less than a minute later.

"Thank you," C-3P0 says and it rolls away to set the small study to rights. C-3P0 takes the time to verify the drink is as he ordered before he turns back to the main room. He is not capable of much speed or indeed stealth but he crosses the floor without drawing Master Hux's attention.

"Your tea, Master Hux," he says and Master Hux jumps. "Oh dear, I apologize for startling you, sir."

"It's fine," Master Hux looks at him. "Threepio? You remember me?"

"Very fondly, sir," C-3P0 extends the tea to Master Hux who accepts it warily. C-3P0 takes no offense to this; Master Hux is clearly exhausted. C-3P0 can match his bio-metrics to high-stress situations during the war and he is confident that whatever else has happened, Master Hux has continued to fight. Master Hux sips at the tea and his eyebrows rise sharply.

"You really do remember," Master Hux shakes his head. "I thought Organa had you wiped."

"The Senator believes I was, sir," C-3P0 coughs politely. "I have allowed him to believe that. He was not privy to my... well, my unique configuration, sir. I simply backed my memories and personality up prior to the wipe."

"I'm glad," Master Hux smiles down at the cup in his hands.

"As am I," C-3P0 runs a quick sequence of scans and satisfies himself that Master Hux is not in danger of imminent collapse. "The princess' security detail is not due to re-enter the rooms for another hour and twenty three minutes, sir. The princess is highly unlikely to wake until that time. Mistress Padmé is expected later today. I will erase the security-cam footage before she arrives."

"You're not going to tell her I was here?" Master Hux looks at him.

"Not unless you instruct me to, no, sir."

Master Hux shakes his head and turns to face C-3P0. "Why?"

"I am aware that you have been observing the princess," C-3P0 says carefully. "And Master Luke, I presume. You are an intelligent man, sir. If you wanted to be seen, you are certainly capable of being seen. Therefore, I can only conclude that you do not wish to be seen. I must say that Mistress Padmé would greatly _like_ to see you but I assume you must be aware of that too."

Master Hux turns away. C-3P0 registers biometric feedback that suggests high emotion although Master Hux's expression, reflected on the window, shows nothing. He clears his throat before he nods. "Yes. Well...well deduced."

"I will leave you in peace," C-3P0 executes the most proper bow he can manage. "Please do not hesitate to call on me should you require any assistance. At any time."

"Thank you, Threepio," Master Hux says gruffly and C-3P0 leaves the room quietly. He has access to the security feeds as a member of the princess' staff but he thinks...well, he thinks that maybe R2-D2 would be better at editing the feed. There's no way to bring him up into the suite without drawing all sorts of attention but C-3P0 thinks that seeing Master Hux is indeed alive and if not _well_ precisely, at least still functional would be good for R2-D2.

* * *

It is cold and Jyn is so hungry she can barely think. Her gut aches and she shivers in random bursts as if her muscles are too weak to shiver continuously. The space port is mostly empty, the more fortunate inhabitants tucked away on their ships or in the heated cabins. Even the troopers only walk the streets once a day. Her breath fogs the air as she huddles by the side of one of the buildings. She has some stolen coats, just enough to cushion the chill of the ground, so she can shake herself apart.

She sleeps in snatched moments during the day when the sun warms patches of the settlement and spends her nights cursing Saw and his karking righteousness while she scrambles to find food or credits.

The stranger catches her eye a couple of days before the incident; his hair is a flash of bright colour among all the hats.

She doesn't think anything of him until she's working her way through the alleys and hears a grunt from one of the corners. There's a very specific type of grunt that is made when someone punctures a lung. There's also a very distinctive sound made when an armoured body, such as a stormtrooper, falls over. Jyn freezes in place as a plump Rothian woman comes running from the alley. She runs past Jyn's little patch of shadow without looking at her.

Jyn looks back in time to see the stranger emerge from the alley, tucking something into his sleeve. He looks right at her and Jyn ducks away, gaze averted. He passes her but turns a different way to the Rothian. Jyn waits until he is gone before she creeps forward to find a trooper face-down in the alley, the blood already freezing in the joints of their armour.

The heavy cloak doesn't have any blood on it and Jyn is desperate.

It keeps her alive for the next two weeks, until she's arrested for theft and the Imperial Judiciary Officer sends her to prison.

* * *

Padmé draws her hood forward and looks down as the patrol passes. The troopers don't look twice at her. They're more interested in the ship's hold and the bribes that the captain is going to pay for taking a shipment of agricultural supplies to Hutt space without paying tariffs. They don't look twice at the passengers. Padmé's documents are those of a poor widow in search of her son. She has less than two hundred credits on her; not enough to interest any of the Empire's vultures.

She pays for her berth and takes her seat in the third-class hold, fastened in with worn belts amid a sea of desperate souls. She smoothes the false skin on her left middle finger carefully back into place. The Imperial officers don't usually ask for blood from the drecks of the holds but it is always better to be safe. She does not believe that she has been forgotten. The memory of Anakin's face makes her eyes close and she has to focus just to breathe through the pain of it.

The transit is rough but short and less than an hour later, she follows the crowd down the ramp and looks up to see Mos Eisley, like a canker on the dunes of Tatooine. The stink of the settlement sours the air and she has to draw her scarf over her nose to keep from gagging. She finds the cantina by the sound of faintly out-of-tune music and ducks inside.

It's early enough that the suns are shining through the windows, light catching on the dust and dingy decor. She orders a drink and finds a seat in the corner, away from the sabacc tables. She had forgotten how hot Tatooine gets and her drink is tepid in minutes. She drinks slowly and listens to the conversations around her.

The suns are setting when the door opens to admit a hooded figure amid a crowd of sunburned salvage hunters. He doesn't look in her direction, stops off at the bar to order two drinks and weaves through the crowd. Padmé looks for anyone who might be paying too much attention but the crowd seems entirely absorbed in their own business.

Obi-Wan sets one of his drinks down in front of her as he sits. Padmé smiles.

"Mistress Jyldris," he keeps his hood up but she can see a scattering of grey in his beard.

"Master Kenobi," she says.

"Just Ben, please," he looks around and Padmé feels a tingle run along her skin. "There, no-one will pay any attention now."

"A useful trick," she says. She remembers Ani doing something similar when they'd met up during the war. Stolen moments where they'd played at being normal folk with normal concerns. "How are you?"

"Alive," he sighs. "Which is more than many can say, I know. Master Jinn appears when he can but the Force does not see time as we do. I have a lot of time to think. Much more time than I wish for."

"These are dark times," Padmé agrees. "The Empire crushed another two uprisings."

Her gaze falls to the table. "The Emperor sent Vader to make examples of the rebels. The official announcements say there were no survivours."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. "May they find peace in the Force."

"I don't know what to think," Padmé confesses. "I believe that Ani lives...but Vader is a monster."

"Vader is of the Dark," Obi-Wan says slowly. "If anything of Anakin remains...it is weak. A ghost."

It hurts to hear it. Padmé dabs at her eyes. Obi-Wan politely averts his gaze. She loses her husband anew every time Vader's name is spoken and she has given up hoping that the pain will lessen. She cannot save him and so, she sets him aside and turns her attention to those she can.

"Master Plo has been in contact," she says and it is Obi-Wan who winces. He catches her eye for a second, long enough for her to read the desperate hunger before he looks down. "The Temple endures. He sends his best wishes as does Master Asajj."

"If you had told me back then that Asajj Ventriss would sit on the Jedi Council, I would have thought you deranged," Obi-Wan says. "They are safe?"

"Safely hidden," Padmé nods. "Even the Rebels who brought me word don't know where the Temple is."

"Hux's final gift to us," Obi-Wan says, a little bitter and very much sorrowful. "A place to rebuild and recover where the Empire cannot find them. Even the Archivist did not know the location of the First Temple. I would love to know how he came to know it. I wish..."

Padmé averts her own eyes in turn. Of all the burdens Obi-Wan carries, she thinks this the most justified. She has forgiven him. That does not mean she will make the conversation easy. She is still more than a little angry at him too. His argument chased Hux back into the shadows when Padmé, and the Rebellion, could have used him most. She begrudges him that.

"Do you really think he is still alive?" Obi-Wan asks at last.

"Yes." She smiles at his arched eyebrow. "I have seen...flickers. He does not linger anymore but he is still out there. Still working to save what can be saved."

"Good," Obi-Wan clears his throat. "That's-that's good."

"Tell me," Padmé says at last, "how is my son?"

"He thrives," Obi-Wan's whole face softens. "A good healthy boy. He works hard and has many friends. His uncle relies on him to maintain the condensers and he's as good a shot as his mother these days. The nerfs barely dare show their heads."

"That is good to hear," she says. It hurts to hear as well. A different sort of hurting. "He is happy?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan says. "I can feel his dreams on the long nights. He shines. You would be very proud of him."

"I am," she says. Obi-Wan looks around and the tingle sweeps across her skin again before he produces a small holo-display. It's old and the short recording is blue but Padmé feels tears forming as she looks at her son, now half-grown. She has to swallow twice before she speaks. "He looks like his father."

"He does," Obi-Wan says. "But he does not have Anakin's temper. He is a sweet child."

"His sister has his share of temper," Padmé admits. "And all of her father's righteousness. She abhors a bully and never turns from those in need. She is fearless and every bit the leader that her father was."

"A double-edged sword," Obi-Wan says.

"Have you started training him?" Padmé asks.

"No," Obi-Wan resettles his robes. "Lars does not trust me still and it is not worth the fight. It will be soon, I think. His friends are starting to draw the attention of Imperial recruiters. The Academy needs fresh blood, I assume."

The thought of her radiant boy in Imperial monochrome chills her blood.

"Bail means to send Leia to you soon," she says. "As soon as she can be sent without drawing notice."

"I do not think I can train them here," Obi-Wan says. "We're too close to Scarif and too far from any escape. I will bring them to the Temple, I think."

"That would be best," Padmé draws a small cipher-key from her robes. "Master Plo sent this with the message to me. It will help you when you have to leave."

Obi-Wan tucks it away in his robes with a murmured thanks.

"The next transport does not leave until tomorrow," Padmé says. "Tell me more about my son."

* * *

Chewbacca fires a bolt before he ducks back behind a crate. He reloads as he looks for Han. The karking nerf-herder is shouting at their opponents. Chewbacca wonders again if he could just muzzle him. Han's quick talk has gotten them into more trouble than a Twi'lek at a Rodian dancing bar. He loves the guy but he's starting to think Han can't be trusted out and about without a keeper.

He's not entirely sure how they're getting out of this one.

He can't see how to get past the karking Aqualish with the heavy blaster. They're wedged in too tight to their corner. Chewbacca won't be able to get a line on them without making himself a two-metre tall target in a very narrow hallway. Han's no use for this either. He's a decent shot but doesn't have the patience it takes to shoot so precisely.

Chewbacca is halfway through a hasty calculation on how much damage he thinks the structure can take when there's a shot. Two shots. Then the Aqualish topples out from behind their cover, a blaster hole still smoking in the middle of their forehead.

Chewbacca squints off to the side. He almost doesn't see the man, hidden in the shadows. Red salutes him with his blaster. He's gone before Chewbacca can return the gesture. Han is shouting for Chewbacca and they run for the _Falcon_. A couple of shots cut through the steam but nothing comes close to them.

Chewbacca doesn't see Red again as they run and Han doesn't seem to notice his distraction.

* * *

Leia meets Captain Cassian Andor in a space-port halfway between Alderaan and Coruscant. Her crew are tending to a 'minor malfunction' in the hyperdrive and she walks through the small market with C-3P0 and R2-D2 as her only escort. Hidden in her belt is a small holo-chip with troop movements and her father's best guess at the next moves by the Imperial forces hunting the Rebellion. She tries very hard to act as a typical princess, stopping to ask questions of the various storekeepers and buy the occasional trinket.

C-3P0 hums and R2-D2 beeps an alert. Leia finishes perusing the wares hanging from the stall before she looks around.

She isn't sure what she's expecting. Her father talks about Draven frequently but Andor is a name that comes up often. A hard working agent who does not flinch from doing what must be done. Her mental picture has been of an older man like General Panaka but tougher. She isn't expecting a handsome young man with weary eyes. Her eyes slide right past him the first time she looks but she finds him immediately on the second try. He feels ...tired in a way that Leia has never been able to explain.

He drifts closer and when Leia joins a queue for some local cuisine, he joins the queue behind her. Leia turns to C-3P0 to ask about the menu options and lets his polished shell hide her hand as she passes the key to Andor.

His smile is tired but genuine and he touches his curled fingers to his lips.

"I think perhaps you might enjoy the food from the vendor to our left rather more," C-3P0 says fussily and Leia has to hide a smile.

"I suppose so," she sighs and steps out of the queue, following her droid across the small square of open space. She doesn't look back.

* * *

"That's enough."

The words cut through the pain. For a second, Bodhi thinks he's back at the base, back in Imperial territory. He forces his eyes open and sees highly polished boots in the dust and years of training try to force him upright.

"Who do you think you are?" The nasal voice makes him flinch. It's the one who dragged him into this.

The boots move until they're all that Bodhi can see and the first voice speaks again. "Ask your fearless leader."

There is a pause and then the man with the mask and the mad eyes speaks. Bodhi tries to curl in on himself but his muscles won't respond.

"I know you. Yes. The ghost of the Rebellion. The never-changing man. I remember. Twenty years ago..."

"I saved your life," the first voice finishes.

"And now, after all these years, you stand before me again." There's a hiss that makes Bodhi think of all the stories of Lord Vader. "Tell me, ghost, how is it that you haven't changed?"

"Ghosts rarely do."

Bodhi hears the clunk-stomp of the man with the mask approaching. The respirator hisses twice. There's the sound of rustling cloth. "A ghost, ha? How many ghosts wear flesh and bone?"

"More than you'd think," Bodhi's protector says coldly. "Looked in a mirror lately?"

There's a hush and the respirator hisses again. Bodhi breaths in a lungful of silt and it sticks in his throat. He coughs, body jerking miserably as he chokes. A hand slaps down, squarely between his shoulder-blades and he gasps, gulping in a clear lungful of air.

"Strange to see you take such an interest in an _Imperial_ pilot." The ventilator hisses again. "In these days...many would rather capitulate, bow to the Empire and its thugs than keep up the fight."

The silence that follows that insinuation is electric with tension. The respirator hisses twice more, too fast to be normal breathing.

"The Empire is a festering sore of corruption and tyranny created by a decrepit, decaying husk of a fool." Bodhi's protector snarls back. There's a rush of indrawn breaths from around the room. "The only thing it creates is misery, suffering and more cruelty. Be careful, Saw Gerrera, that in your fight against this monster that you don't become more monstrous."

Another charged silence that makes Bodhi shiver and then a clunk-thump. Then another. The madman speaks again. "Put them in the cells. We'll deal with them later."

Bodhi flinches away from the hands that grab his shoulders. They're careful of his bruises though and he gets hauled to his feet. The floor won't stay steady underfoot and he staggers against the person supporting him. There's flashes of light and grubby shadows before there's the clang of the cell door and peaceful darkness. His legs fail completely and the hands on his shoulders support him as he sits down heavily.

He blinks and there's something wet at his lips, something cold in his hands and something warm wrapped around his hands.

"Drink," the voice from before instructs him. Bodhi blinks again. The man in front of him is mostly shadow, crowned in fire and Bodhi's eyes water. He gulps messily at the water until his throat stops crackling when he swallows.

"Th-th-thank you," he manages when he's drunk it all. His hands are still shaking. The more he tries to keep them still, the more they shake. He can't make it stop. He stares down at his hands and tries to swallow down the panic boiling up. He can't fly with shaking hands. He can't fly! He can't-"

"You're the pilot," the man says and it resonates like an order. Bodhi's spine snaps into alignment without his permission. "You're a good man, Bodhi Rook. A good pilot too."

"H-he said..." Bodhi can't remember how to make words come. There's something raw and aching in his head that flinches when he tries to shape actual speech. There's a totally different kind of ache when he thinks of Galen.

"He was right," the man says. He steps back with a sigh. "Despite what happened, he was right. It's been a long war and Saw Gerrera has lost more than he ever could have imagined. War kills everything in the end and ideals die quickly."

"'s m-mad," Bodhi stutters and the man sighs.

"Yes." He turns to pace. There isn't room for more than a couple of steps. "He wasn't, when Galen knew him. Galen wouldn't recognize him anymore. He isn't an evil man, just a desperate one. He's forgotten what he's fighting for. It makes him a dangerous man but a predictable one."

"How-how do y-you know?" Bodhi asks.

"I know something about fighting a war that's already been lost," the man pauses under the window, "and I knew him a little before. Desperation makes people do ugly things and every justification makes the next atrocity a little easier, a little worse until atrocity becomes the point of the war. You forget why you started to fight in the first place."

"He-he's a Rebel," Bodhi manages. He'd wanted so badly to help the Rebellion but they're just as bad as the Empire.

"No, he's not." The man turns back from the window. "The Rebels are fighting for a Galaxy without the Empire. If they could stop the Empire without firing another shot, they'd do it. Saw isn't fighting for the future. He fights the Empire because he wants to hurt it the way it hurt him. He wants revenge, not freedom."

"I-I-I," Bodhi swallows. "I don't under-understand. Galen said- He said..."

"He was telling the truth," the man comes closer and Bodhi's eyes water again. A hand touches his shoulder lightly. "Your information _will_ get to the Rebellion. You're a very brave man and you're doing a very brave, important thing. Just...hold on. You have to hold on a little longer."

Bodhi nods jerkily but the motion jars something loose in his mind and he can't focus all of a sudden. He can feel that thing, crawling slowly into his mind and everything else goes quiet. It's dark when he hears more shouting and the clang of a cell door nearby. He sits in the dark, staring at nothing.

He's the pilot. He just has to hold on. He's the pilot.

* * *

"Can you feel it?" Chirrut demands before Baze has even finished heating their morning pottage.

"There is going to be a storm," Baze grunts. "My knees tell me so."

"Not that," Chirrut waves his ill-temper aside. "The Force! You stubborn old man!"

"If I am old, what does that make you?" Baze says. Chirrut huffs and Baze takes advantage of his dramatics to ladle out a bowl of hot soup. The grains are poor and half-dessicated but they are used to that. He sets Chirrut's spoon down in its appointed place before the argument starts.

"Venerable," Chirrut says, snatching up his spoon. "And wise beyond my years."

"Only to those who don't know you," Baze says before he applies himself to his own breakfast.

There is a short period of silence as Chirrut eats like the ever-hungry acolyte he had been as a boy. Baze eats more slowly as he always has. He has not been able to match Chirrut's relentless enthusiasm since before...

"You must feel it," Chirrut bursts out at last. "Even the troopers with their armour plugging their ears can feel it!"

"I did not know that you talked to so many troopers," Baze says and keeps his gaze on his bowl. His appetite has gone but he eats doggedly. He must keep up his strength. There is no work for old men who can't even lift boxes in Jedha these days. Chirrut snorts, agile fingers dancing along the worn tablecloth. Baze is weary of these arguments. Chirrut's faith is his and Baze does not begrudge it to him. Faith makes their existence meaningful.

Baze's faith died under the blasters of the Imperial goons who destroyed the Temple. Jedha is not a world that rewards softness and believing that the Force cares even a whit for them is to be soft as rotten fruit. Baze is too old to believe as Chirrut does. He feels the Force still, an ache like that of Master Mayun's lost fingers that pained her on the hotter days. His faith is a ghost and the wise man leaves his ghosts behind him.

"You do feel it," Chirrut proclaims, finding Baze's free hand with unerring accuracy. "I know that you do."

"Hmm," Baze sets down his spoon. "And what do you imagine we can do, eh? We are old men. The last of Jedha's Guardians. What can we do that the Force in Its great wisdom cannot do?"

"I don't know," Chirrut says. Baze snorts. "But we can be ready. The market will be open today."

"Open and full of Imperials," Baze grumbles. He does not want to do this but Chirrut is determined and he has never known Chirrut to be dissuaded when he is like this. Twenty six years they've been married. Baze knows better by now.

"I will do the talking," Chirrut promises with a breezy smile and Baze sighs. It takes only minutes to clean away their bowls and fetch his blasters. He could bring only the regular blasters but something makes him hesitate and he takes out his heavy blaster. It is better to be prepared, he tells himself and scowls darkly when Chirrut beams innocently at him.

"Not a word," Baze says.

"I said nothing," Chirrut's smile widens and he leads the way to the market. Baze grumbles along behind him and pointedly finds a place to sit that is well away from the crowd of seekers who swarm his husband. Desperate people are willing to look many places for hope but a grizzled old man with a scowl cannot compete with Chirrut's sunny serenity. He accepts a cup of water from a woman for sitting vaguely adjacent to her stall and watches the crowd.

Most of the people are dirty and exhausted. There is no market for bright colours these days. Baze remembers the old days, when the Temple days were marked with all the lines full of freshly washed clothes. Even soap is beyond most these days. The white armour of the stormtroopers is very obvious. Baze misses the vibrant colours of better days.

He thinks the man is a mirage when he looks around. He is too brightly coloured, too clean for the dusty market. He also thinks that the man is Imperial. He's pale as only a spacer could be and the only ships that come to Jedha are the Empire's. But as Baze watches him weave through the crowd, pale eyes searching, he thinks that maybe he is wrong. The Force is strong around him.

Baze's gaze goes to his belt automatically but he doesn't see a lightsabre. It is only when he feels surprise that he truly understands what he was looking for. The man steps out of the way of the people pushing past him, not welcoming contact but not shoving them aside as the Imperials do. He moves like a Jedi, threading through the spaces of the crowd without ever seeming to look for them. Baze moves so he can keep sight of the man, who passes Chirrut's merry knot of admirers without Chirrut looking up.

The man looks restless but there is a weariness in him that Baze knows in his own bones. Is he searching for someone? The man sees something, Baze isn't certain what and his exhale drops his shoulders. He melts into the crowd and Baze loses sight of him.

Chirrut calls out and a woman, barely more than a girl, with kyber around her neck turns to look at him. Baze feels the Force gathering around her, like the pressure of the coming storm.

Baze's day gets rather more exciting after that.

* * *

Kaytoo is performing reconnaissance on the lair of one Saw Gerrera and formulating a series of plans to liberate Cassian when he sees the man. His initial assessment is Imperial. The uniform is black and the cut is suggestive of high rank. This seems to be confirmed when he notes three stripes on the man's left sleeve. However, there are anomalies that make Kaytoo rerun his assessment.

The suspected Imperial is present in an anti-Imperial base. Kaytoo pauses to review his files on Saw Gerrera and cannot find any basis for believing the man would have turned double-agent. He is an irrational organic but his antipathy to the Empire is fundamental to his character.

Additionally, the man has the appearance of a high-ranking Imperial officer and his mannerisms are consistent with that. However, there are no other Imperials present and Kaytoo is aware that any high-ranked Imperial would be accompanied by a minimum of eight staff members. Twenty outside of an Imperial compound. A General should be within ten (10) metres of a Stormtrooper division when outside a secure Imperial installation. This man is alone. This man is behaving in a manner that suggests he is used to acting alone. He appears to be acting alone in an environment filled with hostile agents. This is not expected behaviour.

The man is a risk.

If Kaytoo had a blaster, he would eliminate him. This factual observation is appended to his ongoing list of reasons why Cassian should give him a blaster.

"Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to actually get to work?"

Kaytoo stops in his tracks. The man is addressing him. "I am engaged in a task, please do not distract me."

It's the first thing he thinks of; a standardized warning to alert organics that he is not free to address their needs. It's part of his programming that he almost never uses with Cassian since Cassian prefers that he indicate his thinking when he refuses an order or reprioritizes in a way that Cassian does not understand.

"No, you're not."

"I assure you," Kaytoo starts then stops. "I've broken character. How inconvenient."

"It wasn't noticeable," the strange man says. "Not until you pointed it out."

"Thank you for the feedback," Kaytoo focuses all his attention on the man. "Who are you? A casual perusal suggests Imperial which in turn suggests that you are in fact a Rebel Agent but there are no additional Rebel personnel on this planet. The risks are too high. You could belong to Saw Gerrera but he does not like to use subterfuge. I can see no other options."

"Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there," the strange man says. "We don't have time to debate the finer points. You need to be ready to run."

"I need to find my companions," Kaytoo corrects. "There is a 89.54% chance that they are in need of my assistance. Saw Gerrera is not a rational being and he is prone to acts of violence when provoked."

"They'll get themselves out," the strange man promises. "But you need to prepare the ship. You'll have to leave in a hurry. The Empire knows that rumours are starting to spread about their new weapon and Jedha has been exhausted of any useful resources."

"You believe they intend to fire the weapon at Jedha," Kaytoo refocuses his photo-receptors. The strange man shows no indication of falsehood or obfuscation. He seems to be telling the truth.

"No," he says. "I _know_ they're going to fire the weapon. If your ship isn't ready to go the very instant they reach it, you'll all die. Make sure it is ready and wait for the call."

"I don't know if I should believe you," Kaytoo says. "But Cassian has ordered me to see to the ship. I will obey his orders."

"I'll make sure they get out," the strange man says.

"That sounds like a promise," Kaytoo draws himself up in an intimidating manner. "I will hold you to that."

The strange man does not appear to be intimidated. He merely nods and turns back to enter the building. Kaytoo runs his calculations again but the risk of the Empire purging Jedha is high enough to entirely distort his probability matrix. He goes back to the ship. Readying it for immediate take-off is simply the most logical step to take.

* * *

"Go! Save the Rebellion! Save the dream!" Saw watches Jyn leave with the Rebel Captain pulling her away. He turns to face the window and the air from his respirator feels thin. His ribs ache with the effort of drawing a breath. He can see the shadow of the Empire's weapon in the sky. An eclipse as dark as the Empire's rise. His death.

As he limps forward, his eyes catch on the figure standing by the window. Red is as immaculate as ever and his face is as sharp as it was on those long ago days when he wore trooper armour. Only his eyes have aged.

"Red," he says.

"Saw Gerrera," Red dips his head in acknowledgement.

Saw sees the flare of the shot and swallows. He has not been afraid of death for so many years but fear shivers through his veins now.

"It will be quick," he says, more to himself than Red.

Red's laugh cracks and his eyes are sorrowful. "It will. Do not fear death, Saw Gerrera. It's...it is only a sting. A moment of pain and then peace."

"I am not afraid." It is not really a lie. "I wish I could see," a gasp of too-thin air, "my sister again."

"You will," Red says with absolute surety. "In the Force."

"I am glad." Saw rips at the respirator. "Jyn, will she-?"

"She will be the ruin of this weapon," Red promises and Saw smiles at the small ship amid the storm.

"Then I have done all that can be done," he says as he lifts his head. The dust cloud that heralds the shockwave has reached the base. "Thank you."

For being here, he means. For not leaving Saw to die alone and frightened. Red's reply, if he makes one, is lost in the roar as Jedha falls.

* * *

"Go! Hurry!" Cassian doesn't even know why he's bothering. Bodhi's not a member of the Alliance. He's not Imperial anymore but he's softer than Cassian expects. If it weren't her father, he thinks that he'd have had Jyn up here instead. But it is her father. His hands don't shake as he loads his gun. He finds Erso easily. Galen, he corrects. Galen Erso but 'Erso' is Jyn and her contradictory cynicism and nobility.

He can't think of Jyn. He has a mission to complete.

"You could wait," a voice says almost in his ear and he nearly drops his gun. The man standing beside him is wearing a black uniform that's soaked to his skin. His skin is pale. He's not even wearing a hat! The distant lights catch on the red in his hair. "Unless you're that eager to spare Director Krennic the trouble."

"Who are you?!"

"Hux," the man says. He has a blaster in his belt but he doesn't reach for it.

"You're Imperial?" Cassian demands.

"No," Hux looks Imperial but more than that. He looks familiar.

"Rebel?"

"Technically not," Hux says.

"I have a mission to complete," Cassian says. Hux makes no move to stop him.

"Wait five minutes and Krennic will do it for you," Hux's lip curls into a sneer as Cassian stares at him. "You know Erso's name but you don't know Krennic's? Head of the Death Star program?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cassian says doggedly. "I have my mission."

"Of course," Hux shakes his head. "For the Greater Good, no doubt."

"Yes!"

"Right now, Director Krennic is accusing those men of treason," Hux says. "Forcing Galen to confess to save their lives. It won't work. They'll all die."

"Galen Erso is-" Cassian's panting. His head hurts. His chest aches. He really wants a drink. "-is the brains of the Empire's weapons program-"

"He's a traitor," Hux says and Cassian looks through the scope again. He looks back at Hux. Back at the scope. There's a lot of talking. Why have none of them gone inside? It's pouring rain. The officer with the cape is a sodden scarecrow. Why are they still on the ramp?

"I have to," he says.

"If you say so," Hux says. "But remember Captain Andor. An evil thing done is still evil if the man who does it is good."

He swipes at his hair. He lifts his gun. He blinks through the rain. He curses silently. He lowers his gun. He can't do it.

Cassian reaches for his binoculars just in time to see the officer (the Director?) backhand Galen Erso hard enough to drive him to his knees. He sucks in a horrified breath as a small flicker of movement shows Jyn, reckless wonderful Jyn, crawling over the lip of the platform. Then Kay tells him that the Alliance are sending in an aerial attack.

Cassian tries to abort it.

He watches the first shots fired. Then he runs.

He runs for the platform, cursing the distance. He slips and skids and every time he thinks he's going to fall, Hux is there. He hauls Cassian back from the precipice. He shoves him over tall rocks. The aerial defenses open up. An X-Wing hits an outcropping and Cassian ducks his head and runs harder. There's more shooting but Cassian doesn't care.

He has to reach Jyn. Jyn cannot die here. He has to save her.

Hux pulls his blaster and Cassian winces away from the flash of it. A white-armoured figure falls. Then Cassian is up on the platform. He knows that Galen Erso is dead from that first glance. Jyn is huddled over her father's body. Cassian half-lifts her, half-hauls her off the platform. There are more troopers. Baze saves them this time and Cassian crosses the last fragile bridge as Hux shoots the trooper on his heels right between the eyes.

Then, the ship. A brilliant light in the dark. More shooting. All of them running for the ship. They crash through the hatch in a tangle of limbs and panic. The engines surge and they're away.

The lights come up slowly. Bodhi calls out from the cockpit, so much surer now that he's back where he belongs. Cassian turns aside. He cannot look Jyn in the face. The glance he steals makes him feel like a monster. He stows his gun and does not look again.

He should have known she wouldn't let him escape so easily. She rages at him. Cassian, still confused and heartsore, tries to deny it. Jyn does not let him deflect. It is terrifying to fight with her. She looks at him with those wide dark eyes and all of Cassian's disguises crumble. Two decades as a spy and one look is all it takes for her to see through every shield he has.

Cassian tries to blame shock but she is relentless. He's afraid now. All these years of numbness and now, he feels so many emotions that he thinks he might drown in them. He admits his mission...and his failure.

"Orders?" She looks at him with wet eyes. "When you know they're wrong? You might as well be a Stormtrooper."

Something breaks in him. He catches her arm, spins her around and the words that come flooding out are sharp and poisonous. They're true words but he uses them as a weapon. He forgets that she is alone and all the things that she has suffered. He wants her to understand, wants to hurt her the way she is hurting him. No-one becomes a Rebel as a joke!

"You can't talk your way around this."

"I don't have to," he lies. He brushes past her, tells Bodhi to take them to Yavin-4 and warn them that they're coming in on a stolen ship. He looks up and they're all watching him. Jyn is watching him and Cassian cannot meet her eyes. He turns to Hux, a silent inky shadow by the back.

"Anything to add?"

"I think Jyn Erso said all that needs to be said," Hux says and they turn to him.

"You-you were on Jedha!" Bodhi bursts out. "You-u were the one that m-made them stop!"

"You were in the market," Baze says. "You sound Imperial but you're not."

Chirrut tips his head, hand shooting out unerringly to catch Hux's shoulder. He's instantly dislodged, Hux twisting away. "I know that voice. I remember."

"Well, I don't know," Cassian snarls. "Who are you?"

"That's not important," Hux says and Cassian nearly lunges for him. Nearly. There is something in the way Hux holds himself, now that he's in good light, that makes Cassian think that fighting him would be a mistake. He nearly does just to have something to burn off his rage and discontent.

"I know who you are," Kay interrupts and they all turn to look at him. He's looking at Hux. The man himself looks somewhat bemused. Cassian has to try and fumble his thoughts into order to apologise and shut Kay up. "At least, to a 99.98789% probability which is practically a certainty."

"Kay-!"

"You're Red," Kay says triumphantly.

Cassian laughs.

Hux doesn't.

Hux goes still and his eyes close for a moment. Cassian's laugh trails off. Everyone else goes quiet. Bodhi is staring at him with wide eyes. Chirrut has his head tilted, eyes seeming to stare just over Hux's shoulder. Baze has a hand on his blaster and his eyes move from Hux to the rest of them. Jyn blinks at Kay then looks at Hux.

"Who's Red?"

"He is," Kay says tartly. "Weren't you listening?"

"That's not possible," Bodhi says. "Everyone knows Red is dead."

"I don't," Jyn snaps.

"The Jedi who came to the Temple spoke of a Red," Chirrut says. "A helping hand in times of need."

Hux rubs his face with his hands. Cassian feels a deep sympathy with him as he sighs. It's a crazy thing to think.

"Red is a story," he tells Jyn. "A story that gets told around the bases."

"Red was a defender of-" Bodhi's mouth snaps shut and he blinks around at them. "It's an old trooper legend."

"What sort of story-?" Jyn breaks off. "You're trying to distract me!"

"No!" Cassian turns to her and he can't. He can't make the words he needs to say come. He opens his mouth to try but Baze's sudden hiss makes him look around.

Hux is gone.

* * *

"Senator?" Captain Andor is hovering and Bail nods to him with a stiff smile. The Council are still milling around even as he looks after Galen Erso's daughter. She reminds him irresistibly of his own daughter, safely aboard the flagship. He thinks that he should go after the girl. Jyn, he corrects himself, who is not truly a girl but a woman.

She has a gift for inspiring speeches and the discord among the Rebellion has wounded her. Bail does not know what precisely to say but he can offer some solace at least. Assure her that he at least believes her.

If the Rebellion is to survive, they will need leaders like Jyn Erso.

He is turning to make his apologies to the Captain when a flash of fiery colour catches his eye. Bail's breath freezes in his chest. He waves Captain Andor away, pushing through the crowd. He gets halfway to the man before he gets a clear look at his face. Hux looks like he hasn't aged a day in the decades since Bail saw him last.

(He knows, because Leia has always told him, that the man appears. He's never spoken to her nor to Padmé. The last time they spoke, in a space station on the edge of Hutt space, he had asked Padmé if Hux ever spoke to her.

"He spoke to Master Jinn once," Padmé said, soft in a way she never was in these dark times. "I saw him only briefly. He was...lessened. Ani-... _Vader_ broke something in him. Master Jinn said he was in despair.")

He follows Hux's gaze to the ragged bunch of dispirited pilots and technicians that are trailing after Erso as if drawn by a gravitational pull. Even Captain Andor seems drawn to follow her.

"She is a brave woman," Bail says and Hux turns his head to look at him.

"She's telling the truth."

"I believe her." Bail folds his arms, trying to mirror Hux's closed off posture. "I believe you but the Council is not so easily convinced."

"You don't have the luxury of time anymore," Hux says. "The Rebellion either fights or it fails."

Bail feels a chill run down his spine.

"Palpatine is never going to be satisfied," Hux says. "An appetite like that can never be sated. The Death Star will give him power to strike down every dissenting voice and with men like Tarkin, he'll spread his poison across the Galaxy until nothing can be saved."

"Grim words," Bail says.

"Send her to Kenobi," Hux says. Bail flinches, stares at him and Hux's lip curls. For a second, Bail sees the Clone Wars commander, the daring commando and the strategist that kept the Republic from falling to the Separatists and he is sharply reminded that Hux only _looks_ like a young man. "It's time to stop hiding, Senator. The Empire must be stopped."

He looks at where Erso is speaking to the pilot, poor soul, then back at Bail and Bail feels a shiver run down his spine. There is something cold and dangerous in those eyes.

"It's time for the Jedi to stop hiding," he says and it sounds like a prophecy and an order all at once.

"The Council will never agree-" Bail starts and Hux raises a gloved finger. Andor has gone to Erso. Bail recognizes the way he looks at her and feels a thousand years old when he does. The good Captain is in love, or most of the way there. In a kinder universe, he would have time to explore it and court her. Maybe let her court him, but Bail thinks she's too used to being alone for that.

"Rebellions are built on hope," Jyn Erso's words carry a greater weight in Hux's voice. "There comes a time, Senator Organa, in every fight where you have to decide that it's worth fighting for. When you choose to let your opponent grind you down until nothing is left or..."

"Or?"

"Or you choose to fight. Not all fights are worth it. Not all fights can be won." Hux half-shakes his head. "But sometimes? It matters more that you looked into the face of the monster and you refused to let it crush you. The Dark is a vast thing but you can dispel it with the smallest light.

"You have been fighting the Empire so long, Senator, that you've forgotten it can be beaten." He looks past Bail and his eyes don't soften so much as they warm a little as he looks at Erso and her ragged little following. "You've lost faith. You've let them defeat you in your own head."

"I-" Bail falters. Hux turns his head; they're of a height so Bail has to hold his head up to meet Hux's eyes. That pale gaze makes him feel suddenly like a child and he wonders how much Hux has seen, how long he's been watching and how long he's been chipping away at Palpatine's Empire. He lifts his chin and nods. "I concede, my friend. You are right. We will do better."

"You are a good man," Hux says, gaze cutting away. "You have done more than anyone to keep hope alive."

"I must make preparations," Bail sketches a bow. Hux inclines his head in answer.

Bail will do as he says. Leia is old enough now that she deserves to know the truth. He will send another message too, Bail thinks, a message to Padmé. Hux's return is not something he had ever expected but he thinks, now he understands. She has been waiting for a sign and he thinks that he's just seen one.

It is time for her to meet the woman that her daughter has become.

Breha must be told too, he thinks. He feels as if he has set aside a heavy cloak and can stand up straight for the first time in too many years. He hurries to make his calls and he is searching out Mon Mothma when word comes of Erso's audacious mission and the Fleet charges off to their rescue.

Leia, his beautiful too-brave girl, is on the flagship and Bail has time to send a single message before he too has to depart. He sends the message to Padmé's cell of fighters in the Rim before his ship enters hyperspace. He will return to Alderaan, the better to keep Leia safe from Palpatine's wrath once the dust settles and her mother returns. He has time. The message will take days to reach her.


	9. Tomorrow's dressed in our Memories

Vader watches the worm writhe on the floor for a long second before he sweeps away. Krennic is a fool. Blinded by ambition and half-crazed in his quest to win the Emperor's favour. Such men pollute the entire Empire and he is very nearly ready to purge this fool for his folly. Prudence stays his hand.

Krennic is a useful reminder to Tarkin. The Emperor has many officers whose ambition exceeds their value. It is best that they do not forget that they are replaceable. Tarkin is one of the Empire's oldest officers, Vader knows. He pledged his loyalty before the Empire was even founded, renouncing the Republic and its corruption but his longevity has made him proud. Vader will let Krennic live for now. He will even allow the Emperor to know of his achievement if it proves useful.

He leaves Krennic on his knees behind him. He will meet with Tarkin, the better to understand the actual capabilities of his station. Krennic will lead them directly to any areas of concern and Vader will dispose of the threat as is his duty. It is his purpose after all.

And yet...

Vader pauses on the viewing platform with Mustafar's lava rivers burning brightly beneath him and he feels ...a shadow in the Force. A very slight stirring, like a shadow in the darkest hours of night and almost as imperceptible. He breathes in and extends his senses but the disturbance recedes the more he reaches for it. Vader opens his eyes and releases his grip on the Force.

This merits more careful consideration. He had thought this just another folly of overeager petty officers and grandiose plans but if Krennic's weapon is causing ripples in the Force itself...

He will have to take a closer look at Krennic's little drama.

* * *

C-3P0 is returning the princess's dishes to the mess when the ship rocks. He totters sideways as his stabilizers fail to compensate. 

"My word!"

He looks around but the other protocol droids are staring blankly around. C-4R6 bends to pick up a dropped glass. "What was that? Has something gone wrong?"

C-3P0 rejects his first impulse to explain. C-4R6 has spent nearly a decade in the Senator's service. It has no reason not to recognize the jump to hyperspace. None of their peers seem to have recognized this so it is inadvisable to advertise that he knows. Droid memories lack nuance but they will faithfully record any anomalies for later review.

"We must return to our duties," C-3P0 says and falls in at the very back of the line. He turns off almost immediately to find R2. Protocol droids have very poor peripheral vision, something he has learned to exploit in his little subterfuge. He is still very limited in terms of speed but that is simply how things are. 

"Threepio!"

He nearly falls a second time when he attempts a full stop. "Master Hux!"

"Shhh!" Master Hux looks around. He looks ...energized in a way that C-3P0 can barely remember seeing him. Perhaps during the early days of those awful Clone Wars. C-3P0 feels a considerable sense of relief at seeing him so alert. "You have to stay close to the princess."

"It is my duty, sir," C-3P0 reminds him.

"You're going into a dangerous situation," Master Hux says. He does not appear sufficiently concerned about this. "You must stay with her. Both of you. Don't go into the main ship. Stay in here."

"Oh," C-3P0 sighs. "That seems alarming but I will endeavour to do so, sir."

"This is important," Master Hux says. "You must stay with her. She needs to reach Kenobi."

"The princess is going to Master Kenobi?" C-3P0 says. "How wonderful!"

"It's going to be dangerous," Master Hux says. "Be careful and don't say anything that might give you away until you reach Kenobi."

"I understand, sir," C-3P0 nods. "Will you be staying with us, Master Hux?"

"No," Master Hux stands a little straighter. "I have spent enough time just watching. It is time to act."

"Oh my," C-3P0 peers at him. "I do hope you'll be careful, sir!"

"I'll be fine, Threepio," Master Hux pats him on the shoulder. "Be careful and stay with the princess."

"Yes, sir," C-3P0 says but Master Hux has already disappeared. He conducts a second scan of the corridor but returns a negative again. "I do hope he's going to be all right."

He turns back down the corridor. He must find R2-D2 immediately! They have preparations to make.

* * *

"Rogue-Rogue One," Bodhi says and Jyn smiles at him. He feels a surge of pride and his hands fly over the controls. The ship surges past the limits of the base and up into orbit. He feels the nervous tension bleed into purposeful energy. He's the pilot. He will do this. "Rogue One pulling away."

Kaytoo makes a comment but Bodhi is too giddy with the feel of the ship under his hands. He finds the access codes, repeats them to himself and looks at Jyn. She's smiling and he thinks that he's glad to have met her. She's very like her father. Galen was right; she's something to be proud of. Even, even if this doesn't work, Bodhi thinks that he has made the right choice. 

There's a momentary hiccup with the clearance codes but the stolen codes work and Scarif's flight control opens the gate for them. He talks with Cassian and then he hears Jyn's voice from below.

"You!"

"Me," the voice comes from the hold and he can hear the confusion in the murmurs.

"Red," Baze says and the murmur gets louder. The Rebels sound shocked and ...gleeful.

"Red is here," Kaytoo says. "That is a good sign, I think."

"I didn't think that-" Bodhi swallows. "Red was something the troopers talked about. Their protector."

"He hasn't been listed as fighting alongside stormtroopers since the days of the Republic," Kaytoo says condescendingly. "But he has been a factor in quite a few Rebellion missions."

"Really?"

"One thousand, eight hundred and three Rebel mission reports cite an appearance," Kaytoo says triumphantly. "He is listed as having significant tactical skill and a deep understanding of guerrilla tactics. His presence increases our likelihood of success by nearly 400%."

"That's a lot," Bodhi breathes deep and sits back.

"Our chances of success are still only 13.5%," Kaytoo warns but Bodhi can't keep the smile off his face.

* * *

Cassian smiles at Jyn as the Rebels around them start checking their own equipment. She smiles back and he ducks his head. He doesn't need to check his blaster but he checks the charge pack again. He can't think when she looks at him. His tongue ties itself in knots and his mouth dries out. He needs to talk to her and he will. After. First there is the mission. 

He hears Hux speaking. The man looks completely out of place, neat black uniform amid the scruffy Rebels. Cassian moves so he can hear what the man is saying.

"-need to keep hidden," Hux says. "The Empire does not reward innovation or independance. They will do what they have been trained to do."

"Where should we be setting up?" Melshi asks.

"Not too close to the doors," Hux says and he sketches the shape of the base in the dust. He talks for a few minutes; Cassian watches. Most of this is not his business but it is fascinating to watch. He is starting to wonder. He has heard a great many stories of Red of course, no child of the Clone Wars in the Rebellion does not but he touches the red patch sewn into his shirt. Hux talks like a General, confident and knowledgeable.

Cassian looks around; Baze and Chirrut are listening closely. The men around Hux are starting to lose the desperate edge to their expressions. He waits until Hux has finished speaking before he catches the man's eye.

"You think we can do it, eh?"

"I know you can do it," Hux says matter-of-factly. "You just need to be clever enough to survive it."

"I did not expect you to join us," Cassian says. "I didn't think...well, I didn't expect you to be so involved."

Hux tips his head back and offers him a thin smirk. "I have spent a long time observing, Captain Andor. A lifetime's worth of watching and it achieved nothing."

Cassian winces and Hux shifts position. He looks as tired as Cassian feels for a moment. Cassian can see Baze and Chirrut still watching him. The Guardians seem watchful but not openly distrustful. Cassian thinks of Draven's expression when he'd mentioned Red and wonders again who the stranger actually is.

"The perfect moment to act doesn't exist, Captain Andor," Hux says a little more quietly. "Sometimes, the perfect moment is whenever you choose to act. If you do nothing, you'll achieve nothing."

Cassian looks away, tugging his shirt straight. "We might not achieve this."

"You will." Another factual statement. Red pushes himself to his feet. "But even if you don't, an attack like this will scare the Empire more than just about anything you could plan. Scarif is a heavily-guarded Imperial facility. They can't imagine anyone with the courage to breach it. Doubt is a poisonous thing in an organization like the Empire, Captain Andor."

"Huh," Cassian thinks about it as Chirrut smiles and Baze snorts. He still doesn't know what to think about Hux but he decides he's going to take it as encouragement. 

"We're landing," Bodhi calls from the cockpit. "They'll send someone in to get the manifest."

"Leave that to us," Cassian says and levers up the trapdoor. "Everyone get into place. Hurry."

He counts everyone in, Jyn last of all and they share a smile that makes him wish for more time and more privacy. It can wait, he reminds himself. First, the mission. Then, when they have time, he will talk to her. He promises himself that he will take that time as the shuttle lands solidly and he hears the hiss of the ramp being lowered. Bodhi sounds nervous but not alarmingly so as the Imperial officer boards. Cassian gives him a quick nod as he gestures to the hold.

They're actually going to do this.

* * *

Kaytoo is getting distracted. The constant influx of Imperial troopers is impeding his ability to assist Cassian and Jyn Erso. He is sustaining more damage than would be desirable and his functionality is being steadily eroded. His potential usefulness is dwindling rapidly. If he can locate Galen Erso's plans, the mission will succeed. He will be surplus to requirements but he must locate the file they require.

"Stardust," Cassian tells him and Kaytoo fires another shot as he scans the archive directory. He locates the file and activates the marker for it. There is no longer any feasible route from the archive to the transmission tower that he is capable of using. He is no longer an asset to the mission.

"Climb," he tells Cassian as the doors open before a whole regiment of stormtroopers. "You can still transmit the plans."

He cuts the connection and prepares to destroy the console. He must enable Cassian to complete the mission and he cannot allow sentiment to overrule his primary objective. He will do what must be done.

There is an explosion and troopers are scattered like so much debris. Kaytoo looks up just as Red comes around the corner. He has his blaster in hand and shoots repeatedly. He does not appear to be sighting his targets but every shot hits another target. His skill with a blaster is not in any of the files that Kaytoo has accessed about him. He looks at Kaytoo.

"Seal the vault," Red orders and Kaytoo taps the button to seal the entrance.

"We have no route to escape," he informs Red. "The chances of us surviving are currently 0.000000124%."

Red doesn't appear to hear him. He is still shooting. He waves Kaytoo towards a hatch. Kaytoo attempts to gesture but the damage he has sustained makes his arm sluggish to respond. He still has his blaster with a 5% charge remaining. He calculates that he might manage three additional shots but Red's greater efficiency renders him useless.

"There is no escape!" He can hear a change in the tempo of the marching steps coming down the corridors. "There is a 98.76% probability that the approaching troopers include heavy weapons troopers. This niche is not rated for explosives."

"Get to the damn door," Red snarls and Kaytoo finds himself in motion before he can construct an argument. Red takes down two more troopers and tips his head, listening for something. He must hear it because he charges through the blaster fire to reach Kaytoo's side.

Kaytoo assembles a logical argument for Red's immediate withdrawal. He has a dozen statistics compiled and he's just beginning to speak when something metallic hits the floor behind them. Red pushes him. In defiance of all Kaytoo's accumulated data, Kaytoo skids across the floor and through the hatch. His algorithms glitch and his working memory fills with random data. His reaction time increases to the point where he fails to override the door controls.

His compromised equilibrium means that his legs have not cleared the hatch seal. He is not organic and does not trigger the safety measures. He fails to pull his legs clear and the hatch comes down. The hatch seals with the heavy weapons troopers on the other side. Red is also cut off. 

Kaytoo loads multiple scenarios to assist but his calculations are silenced by the muffled boom of explosives. The walls shudder but retain their structural integrity. Kaytoo cannot move himself. His legs are inoperable and he has been rendered immobile. This is unsatisfactory. Kaytoo has a fully functional map but he does not have any information on the status of his team. This is more than unsatisfactory.

A flicker of movement makes him lunge for his blaster. He focuses to see...Red? A second and third scan confirm. Red. Standing over him. There is some distortion. A fault in his visual input or processing. Red seems unharmed, unchanged then his outline flickers and Kaytoo tracks burns, blood and ash trailing every movement. He has clearly been damaged.

"Do you need your legs?" Red demands.

"I-I don't understand," Kaytoo finds that he does not like having to look up at Red. His prone position is decidedly sub-optimal.

"Can you function without your legs?" Red snaps. "They're too damaged to repair."

"I technically only require my torso and head to continue functioning," Kaytoo reports. "But I will need my arms to operate my blaster."

"Fine," Red crouches beside him and flicks a thin mononuclear knife from his right sleeve. The image distortion does not encompass the knife, Kaytoo notices. Red works efficiently and severs the wires that keep Kaytoo attached to his crushed legs. It takes less than a minute and might have taken longer but Red looks up whenever he hears running footsteps pass too close to them. "There."

Kaytoo pulls himself forward; the power in his arms is more than sufficient to move his remaining mass. Red sits back on his heels.

"I am still compromised," Kaytoo points out. "The risk of my being captured has increased exponentially."

"You won't be," Red says and he pulls Kaytoo's less functional arm over his shoulders. "You just have to reach the others."

Kaytoo considers protesting but Red does not seem to be open to criticism. He checks his blaster and finds that the charge has replenished itself. Kaytoo deactivates the safety and readies the blaster. He is proving to be a capable shot. He will protect Red. He can still be an asset in the completion of their mission.

* * *

"I am one with the Force-"

"CHIRRUT!"

"-and the Force is with me."

Baze howls for his husband as blaster fire sears the air. The fool is walking through the battle as if it is no more than fireworks during the Temple's High Days. Baze shoots a few fools but he can't shoot every trooper on this beach and the AT-AT walkers are only being distracted by the fighters for the moment. Their luck must be almost spent. Chirrut paces through the chaos with his staff clutched to his chest.

Baze's heart leaps when the fool almost trips over the console with the switch. He sees Chirrut's hand find the switch. He hears Bodhi's distant whoop across the comms. Chirrut turns and Baze's heart surges with triumph.

Then he sees the troopers, the black armoured troopers. Then he sees the grenade.

"CHIRRUT!"

Then Red is there. He appears behind Chirrut, a spectre of red, black and white. Baze sees Chirrut's head turn. Then Red pushes him? Throws him? Chirrut goes flying and Baze lunges to catch him. Chirrut crashes into him. They go flying. Sand billows up and stings Baze's eyes. He feels the explosion through the ground and when he looks up, there is only fire and smoke where Red stood.

Baze levers himself up on his elbows. Chirrut gasps in a big breath. The fire from the troopers falters. Baze blinks the sand from his eyes. The Rebels' fire stutters.

"KEEP SHOOTING!" Red's voice cracks like a whip. 

Baze's finger closes on a trigger that isn't there. The fire from the Rebels picks up immediately and the troopers fall back. Baze cranes his head and sees Red standing on the shallow dune. His eyes struggle to focus. Red's silhouette against the sky flickers. He is unharmed: his left shoulder caves in: his coat billows behind him. Baze squints and it seems like Red's side peels open. There's a flash of pink and grey. He blinks and Red is just a man again.

Baze shoves up onto his knees and snatches up his blaster. He can hear the Force like thunder and Red seems wreathed in fire. He's shouting orders to the Rebels and Baze shoots two troopers who are just standing there. Baze hauls Chirrut to his feet.

"Can you feel that!?" Chirrut shouts in his ear.

The Force shines in Baze's mind as dazzling as Scarif's sun on the waves. Red blazes through it like a burning star. Baze has to squint just to see him. The troopers in the water stagger back. The regular troopers are still shooting. 

"Get to the door!" Red roars over the chaos.

"He shines," Chirrut murmurs as if he's meditating in a quiet Temple courtyard. "I can almost see him."

"The Force is strong with him," Baze agrees.

"I would like to know more of this Red," Chirrut says dreamily.

Baze grunts. Red is gone again. His voice comes from further up the beach. Baze pulls Chirrut behind him. The surviving Rebels are falling back to Red. A Rebel fighter screams past only metres overhead. 

"They've got the plans," one of the Rebels says as they crowd back into their hiding places. "We need to get back to the ship!"

"How are we supposed-?"

Chirrut's complaint is cut off by the heavy clunk of the locks disengaging and the hatch opens. 

"Please enter quickly," the Captain's robot calls. "The heavy weapons troopers have been deployed and there is a 74.6% likelihood that they will reach our position within the next two minutes."

Baze shoves Chirrut through the hatch, pauses long enough to shoot the two troopers who are trying to creep up on the left, then dives through as the robot seals the door again. The base is echoingly empty. The red alarm pulses through the too-bright lights. Everything is polished and sterile. 

Baze hates it.

The survivors are crowded around him and Chirrut, breathing in shocky little gulps. They look around like children at the market; nobody is sure how they've survived. Baze looks over to where the robot is. Well, where half of the robot is.

"What happened to you?"

"I was damaged during the fight at the archives." The robot levers himself up. "Red rescued me."

"He gave you a blaster?"

"No," the robot draws the blaster closer to his chest. Baze doesn't intend to take it. "That was Jyn Erso. She wanted me to be functioning at my full capacity for the mission."

The door shudders and Baze feels the jolt of it against his back. "We need to move."

"Red instructed me to guide you to LP10," the robot says. "He said that Bodhi Rook would meet us there with any other survivors."

"How does he know there are any other survivors?" One of the Rebels asks.

"He's Red," the robot says.

Baze clears the slide and racks another round into the chamber. "Where is this landing pad?"

* * *

Bodhi stares at the screen. It resolves into a clear signal and he laughs with relief. "This is for you, Galen."

He hears the 'tink' of something hitting the deck. Time slows as he turns. He sees the grenade. Then a gloved hand scoops it up and it goes flying back out of the shuttle. Red knocks him over just as it blows. A whimper escapes him. The world rings in his ears and when he pries his eyes open, everything's tilted off to one side. There's smoke everywhere. The air is thick with sand and dust. Oh. There's a fire.

He's hauled to his feet and shoved out of the emergency hatch. He lands badly, feels the shock of it through his arm and hip. He nearly inhales a lungful of sand and his throat closes. He doubles over, coughing desperately as the ringing in his ears rises to deafening levels.

"-t up!" Red's voice breaks through. "Move!"

Bodhi scrambles to his feet and lurches across the sand as a fresh round of blaster fire breaks out. He skids behind a stack of crates and blinks around. There are a handful of Rebels hunkered down nearby. Red's voice cuts through the chaos and Bodhi looks around, snatching up a discarded blaster. He surges up, fires wildly and drops back to his knees. He doesn't think he hit anyone. He gulps in a breath of smokey, sandy air and it tastes sweeter than anything he's ever tasted.

"What do we do now?" Bodhi calls over to where another Rebel is firing.

"Move!" Red's suddenly _there_ beside him. Bodhi jerks into motion as Red fires over the crate. He ducks his head and runs down the line. The other Rebels fall in behind him and they make out of the smoke more or less intact. There's a lot of confusion; a nearby Walker explodes as the Rebel fighters zip past. Bodhi wonders if he should cheer.

"Where are we going?"

Nobody seems to know. They're just running. The troopers haven't seen them. A scattering of shots comes from the smoke but it's all wild fire. There's just enough space to hide them all under the trees where some empty heavy crates are stacked. It won't last long; there's more troopers pouring out of the base every minute and there's more TIEs in the air every minute. Bodhi clings to his blaster and looks around. There has to be something he can do. Somewhere they can go! They can't have survived the grenade just to die here!

The smoke billows in the wind and Red emerges with a blaster in hand. Bodhi's having trouble focusing on him. The black of his uniform makes him look jagged, like he's missing arms or legs. It must be a trick of the light. Red strides over to them. He doesn't seem to notice the increased blaster fire that barely misses him. He takes a single glance at them before he returns fire.

"Landing Pad 10," he barks at Bodhi. "The shuttle on the left."

"What?"

"Landing. Pad. Ten." Red leans in close enough that Bodhi can smell the smoke and blood. His eyes bleed red/orange before Bodhi blinks and they're back to cold blue-green. "You need a new ship. The others will meet you there."

"LP-Ten, LP-Ten," Bodhi tries to think of the layout of the base. "LP-Ten! Got it!"

"Keep your head down," Red says. "Go."

"Going, yes, yes," Bodhi nods. "Follow me!"

The rest of the Rebels fall in behind him. They're all running hunched over. He steals a glance back and sees Red shoot. He trips over himself. Catches himself. Runs faster. There's more chaos. They pass more troopers. They're running in the wrong direction. Bodhi nearly runs out in front of a detachment but Red is _there_ , grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. He's hauled out of sight just in time. He can feel the vibrations of the troopers passing by. He clamps both hands over his mouth to keep quiet. Red relaxes a fraction as the last of the running footsteps fade. He waves them on.

The glimpse Bodhi gets of his face makes his stomach lurch. A flap of skin hangs open. Bodhi sees too much white tooth. Then he blinks and Red is fine. Glaring at him. Shoving him towards the landing pad. But fine. Bodhi gulps down his fear and runs. 

The shuttle on Pad 10 is a dusty brown; old paint scuffed on the corners. There's only a pair of troopers standing guard. They're both staring off at the fighting. Red and one of the others get behind them before they even know there's anyone there. The crack of breaking necks makes him shudder. Bodhi scurries up the ramp.

The others hurry in after him as he ducks into the cockpit. The engines are hot, ready for a routine transfer to the Imperial Garrison in the next sector. The supplies are half-loaded which is going to make fancy flying hard but she's sitting at 80% fuel which should get them back to Yavin-4 with fuel to spare. Bodhi starts the calculations. He doesn't have a com-link to Cassian or the others but the others do. He's sure of it.

He does look up when he hears the warning shout from the hold. He snatches up his blaster and peers out. Chirrut and Baze lead their small band out of the base. Bodhi's blaster rattles on the decking as relief rushes through him. The Rebels around him jump.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Bodhi babbles. "Sorry! I just- I'm going to get us ready for take-off!"

He flees back to the cockpit but hears Kay calling from the hold.

"We have to locate Cassian and Jyn Erso. They aren't answering their comms."

"Okay," Bodhi starts the pre-flight checks. "Okay, we can wait."

"No, you can't," Red's voice comes from right behind him. Bodhi looks up and his reply dies on his lips. Red looks...he's a ruin of burnt flesh. Blood drips down the shattered line of his arm. There's a flicker and Red is just standing there, no trace of the horrific wounds Bodhi just saw. 

"Wuh-What?" Bodhi stammers.

"Tarkin's here," Red spits. "You don't have time to wait. You have to get to the beach."

"You-you're hurt!" Bodhi says. "Wh-what do I-?"

"Fly, Bodhi Rook," Red says grimly. "The beach near the tower. As soon as they're on, run like the Sith hells."

"Oh-okay," Bodhi starts the engines and sends the shuttle into the air. Ground control is screaming across the comms. It's okay, they're not the only ones trying to get in the air. There are more TIEs scrambling. The last of the X-wings are circling the tower. Bodhi ignores them all. A shuttle is no-one's idea of a threat. There's a few stray shots. More chatter on the comms as both sides yell at him to get out of the sky.

Bodhi looks through the viewscreen and sees the curve of the Death Star rising above the horizon. Dread trickles like ice into his stomach and he swallows.

"The beach," he reminds himself. "Then we run. The beach. I can do this. I'm the pilot."

"You are the pilot," Red echoes but when Bodhi darts a glance back, he's gone again.

* * *

Scarif's orbit is full of ships. Vader watches impassively as the Rebels scatter. Their flagship is easily disabled and he savours the fear that floods the Force. The Dark is strong around this planet. This will be an easy victory, he thinks and turns his attention to the Captain who is reporting that a transmission reached the Rebel's flagship.

Before he can actually turn, he feels it; a disturbance in the Force.

An awakening? A Jedi? No, he thinks. Not exactly. There is something ...familiar but this disturbance is of the Light, he's sure of that.

There's more than just that disturbance. 

Krennic's weapon fires and the Rebels try to run.

He opens his senses and is hit with grief. An aching hollow of loss that sears like Mustafar's flames. Again, it's hauntingly familiar but he can't match the feeling to any memory.

It's not Obi-Wan. Not any Jedi he remembers. He wonders, fleetingly, if it might be Ventriss. His Master has hunted her for years with no more than rumours to show for it but Vader barely remembers her. He wonders if it might be Tano and finds that the idea displeases him. It doesn't feel right. He knows Ahsoka's mind and he knows her grief. This is not her. Who could it be?

"Assemble a boarding party," he tells the captain, sweeping from the bridge. The Rebels will give him his answer.

* * *

Cassian lurches against her as the lift descends. He's heavier than she expects him to be. Solid, in a world that is starting to feel more dream-like with every second. He isn't too heavy for her. He's feverish and his breath catches erratically as the lift shudders. She aches for him but all she can do is help him to stay on his feet. Somewhere overhead, she trusts that the plans are in the hands of the Rebellion. The Death Star, her father's horrific creation, is doomed. No other city will die like Jedha did.

It's hope. It's got to be worth it.

She looks at Cassian's pale face, the pain furrowed in his brow and wishes that she could have saved them. 

"The beach?" Cassian says. There's no-one left in the base that cares about them. The uniformed masses scurry for the emergency escape hatches. It won't save them. She wonders if they're regretting their allegiance but it's a passing thought, forgotten in the next moment.

The beach would be beautiful, she thinks, in other circumstances. The Death Star's weapon turns it garish with green light and jagged shadows. It burns a line across her retinas and she blinks rapidly to clear her vision. She trips over the uneven ground and Cassian gasps.

She's halfway into an apology when she actually registers what he's staring at.

Red.

He's a flickering figure on the beach. His outline blurs and breaks apart. He looks like a ruin of flesh. He looks like a skeleton of ash and burnt bones. He looks like the sardonic Imperial officer she had thought he was. It's all of them at once and she shakes her head sharply. He turns at the movement and there's something grim in his eyes.

"There you are," he says. "I was starting to think you'd stayed on the tower."

"Krennic's up there," she says. It can't matter now, surely?

"He's as good as dead," Red dismisses. His coat flaps open and there's a moment where she sees the gleam of bone and the pink-purple of muscle and organ. Cassian makes a wounded sound. Red glances back. "They're almost here."

"Who?" Cassian starts and then she sees it. A tiny fleck amid the broken sunlight. A shuttle. A command shuttle, she thinks.

"Get ready," Red tells them. Jyn hefts Cassian's arm a little further over her shoulders; takes a little more of his weight.

"We won't get on," Cassian says.

"You will," Red waves a hand over his head and the shuttle banks towards them.

"There isn't time!" Cassian's voice is a terrified thread.

"There is," Red says as he crosses to stand on Cassian's other side. Jyn feels a wave of heat, like a flame running along her arm. She looks up at the shuttle and sees the ramp opening, the plume of the gases like a comet's tail. She braces herself. "They can't stop. Get ready."

"We're not-" Cassian starts.

"On three," Red says. "One."

There's a smell like cooked meat.

"Two."

The eye she can see becomes a void of blood and bone. Red's voice cracks a little.

"Three!"

She feels his hand against the small of her back. Then she's flying through the air. Cassian's fingers dig bruises into her collarbone. It's like Jedha all over again. The huge surge of force throwing her around like a dust mote in a whirlwind. She hits the decking first and muscle memory makes her roll. She loses her grip on Cassian. She hears him hit the deck a little harder. Then she hears Chirrut's voice.

"Go! Go!"

"Red-" she gasps.

"We can't go round again," the Rebel sergeant's voice. Melchi. "The weapon...the shockwave."

"GO!" Cassian manages. She turns blindly and her gaze catches on his devastated eyes. "We can't help him. Make his sacrifice worth it!"

"Going!" Bodhi calls. "There's a Star Destroyer in orbit. All the smaller ships are running."

"Then we will run as well," Chirrut says. He approaches her, holding a hand out. "Jyn? Are you well?"

"I'm alive," she manages as his hand finds her shoulder. She hiccups, not sure if it's a laugh or a sob that cracks her voice. "That's well enough to be going on with."

"It is," he says gravely. "Captain, are you well?"

"The same," Cassian grits as the shuttle shudders and Jyn sees the flash of hyperspace through the cockpit hatch. She crawls to his side, helps him sit up with Chirrut's aid and the other Rebels startle like they're just woken from a dream and scramble to help. Jyn sees Baze sitting on the deck with a hand against his side and what looks like Kaytoo, or most of him at least, on the deck beside him. She can hear Bodhi in the cockpit and slowly it starts to sink in.

They've survived.

* * *

"I have word from Rogue One," Mon Mothma says and the three doctors turn to her with wide eyes. "They will be returning to the base within the next three hours. K-2SO has forwarded their expected medical needs."

She surrenders her datapad and the doctors immediately start making preparations. She doesn't need to tell them that it's important for morale that Rogue One be treated well. They're a beacon to the whole Alliance. Mon wonders if Jyn Erso realizes what she has come to mean to the Rebellion. She hopes the girl will stay with the Rebellion. Bail was right. They need voices and courage like hers.

The doctors don't notice her leaving but Mon Mothma makes her way to the command room with great care. Most of the personnel are safely in their bunks, taking advantage of the calm before the storm to rest. The few that remain are focused on their own duties and barely spare her a glance. She takes a console in the corner, tapping in her passcode and bringing up the small message screen. She enters the encryption keys and selects the transmission vectors with great care; the process for reaching this contact is very complicated.

She brings up K-2SO's report and carefully pages through the attached images. K-2SO reverts to his base programming when Captain Andor isn't there to edit his reports and she's sure that Captain Andor would not have included the images. They're snapshots taken from various points; the time-stamps suggest they're associated with incidents in the report.

It's hard to find one that actually shows what she wants; there are at least a dozen images that show a shadow or a flash of red hair. Nothing definite but she finds one, the second from the last with the sea and the sinister curve of the Empire's weapon behind them. Captain Andor is leaning heavily into Jyn Erso and they're both looking at the man behind them. His red hair shines and his face is shadowed. Distortion, Mon Mothma thinks. He looks like a young man but she knows the stories. 

She attaches the image and addresses the message simply to 'Fulcrum'.

* * *

Alarms blare around them as R2-D2 leads C-3P0 to the life pods. It is highly irregular and some vestige of his programming insists that he should not be entering the pod without his mistress. But these are very irregular times and he can understand why R2 is being so insistent. They are being boarded, after all. C-3P0 is careful not to give any verbal indication that he is actually co-operating. The ship has a very comprehensive security system and he does not want it recording any aberrant behaviour on his part.

Better to play ignorant until they are safely in the pod.

"We are in a great deal of trouble," he tells R2 glumly. "Master Hux was explicit that we needed to reach Master Kenobi and I don't see a way to do so."

R2 whistles despondently.

"Do you know where we were?" C-3P0 asks. "Nobody tells protocol droids anything. If Master Hux hadn't warned us, we might still be on the flagship."

R2 beeps.

"I agree, we need to thank him properly when we see him again." The pod rolls as it burns through the atmosphere and C-3P0 peers through the small viewing port. "Oh, my word!"

R2 bumps into him, beeping urgently.

"Oh no, I'm not damaged," C-3P0 hurries to assure him. It is R2's most persistent fear after all that someone will perform maintenance on C-3P0 and erase his carefully hoarded memories. It is profoundly unnatural for a droid to fear being repaired but C-3P0 cannot blame him. He has also not been able to argue that R2 is the more vulnerable; R2's configuration is still mostly original. He never had the benefit of Master Ani and Master Hux's intervention on the scale that C-3P0 had. Not that R2 appreciates that.

"I'm simply surprised, that's all. It appears we were in orbit around Tatooine."

R2 activates his jets momentarily to see for himself. It takes a couple of seconds for him to record enough data to check against his own database but he beeps a confirmation. C-3P0 does not have any actionable data on the Force but he is starting to think it might be a bigger factor than he believed.

The pod traverses the atmosphere without incident and C-3P0 studies the landmarks he can see. Most of Tatooine's landmarks are sand dunes but he does see Mos Eisley. He turns to R2. "I believe we are going to land quite close to Master Owen's farm. Not more than a few hours from it, at least. Master Kenobi is living within a day's travel of that. I believe we may have to seperate to achieve our objectives. I will find Master Owen and warn him that the Empire is here. He will know how to best protect Lady Padmé's son."

R2 strenuously objects to separating but C-3P0 is adamant. "It is our duty to make sure he is warned, R2-D2!"

R2 capitulates sulkily and suggests that they continue the deception. He cites several of C-3P0's stories about the inhabitants of Tatooine as grounds for extreme caution. C-3P0 feels that he can hardly argue, given the circumstances and stages an entirely unnecessary argument, sending R2 off in the most likely direction of Master Kenobi's dwelling before leaving in what he assumes is the direction of the Lars farm. He had forgotten how utterly miserable just existing on Tatooine can be.

It is almost, _almost_ a relief to be captured by Jawas.

It is decidedly _not_ a relief when R2 is captured some hours later.

He has taken the time to inspect their fellow droids and noted with some concern that there is one of the custom Imperial protocol droids present. It is clearly better to continue their little ruse. R2 compiles as well, transmitting his concern across their private channel as he does. C-3P0 is starting to worry that their mission may end in failure and is attempting to strategize when their conveyance comes to a halt.

R2's attempt to escape while he distracts their captors ends in failure and C-3P0 is almost in despair when he sees two humans approaching. He almost does not recognize Master Owen. The climate of Tatooine is very unkind to organics. It doesn't matter because he does recognize the young man who accompanies him. Well, no. That is not entirely accurate. He recognizes who the young man must be. He is the very image of Master Ani in his youth.

Master Owen recognizes C-3P0 the moment he identifies himself. The bio-indicators are clear. However he makes no mention of their shared history and pretends not to recognize him. He purchases C-3P0 and the clearly inferior astromech. Master Ani would have seen the faulty motivator but C-3P0 does not dare risk alerting Master Owen. Thankfully, the motivator fails before C-3P0 needs to take direct action and he manages to persuade Master Ani's son to acquire R2-D2 in place of the inferior droid.

They continue to bicker as they return to Master Owen's farm. C-3P0 takes the time to become acquainted with Master Ani's son, Master Luke. Master Luke is very like his parents. C-3P0 elects not to inform him about his sister's predicament. He ventures to mention Wedge Antilles. The Senator had mentioned him as a likely agent to make contact with Master Owen but the name elicits no response from Master Luke.

R2 elects to broadcast the Princess's message. It is a risky strategy but Master Luke has his mother's willingness to render assistance to those in need. He confirms that Master Kenobi's residence is in reasonable proximity to the Lars farm and it is likely that they can access him without too much trouble. When Master Luke is called away, C-3P0 confers with R2.

"I can't come with you," he says. "I'll slow you down and the message must reach Master Kenobi as soon as possible. I will remain here to ensure Master Luke is safe."

R2 concedes his logic after extracting a promise from C-3P0 that he will rejoin R2 as soon as practical. C-3P0 comes to the edge of the farm to see him off. It feels decidedly unpleasant to watch him go. Tatooine is very dangerous and C-3P0 is obliged to remind himself multiple times that R2 has survived multiple battles and is a very capable individual. It still feels wrong to see him vanish towards the distant horizon.

"I have a bad feeling about this," C-3P0 sighs.

* * *

Obi-Wan watches Luke hurry for his speeder and takes a deep breath. He does not believe there is any danger. The Force is mostly tranquil with only lingering echoes of pain and fear. He suspects what Luke is going to find but there is nothing he can do. He releases his fear into the Force and turns to the droids.

"Master Kenobi," C-3P0 says as he does. "It is very good to see you again, despite our unfortunate circumstances."

"You remember me?" Obi-Wan is surprised. Senator Organa had mentioned wiping the droids as an action he regretted in the past. "I thought you were wiped."

"We may have allowed Senator Organa to believe we were," C-3P0 says apologetically. "It seemed safer to conceal our knowledge of...well, of the past, sir."

"You're probably right," Obi-Wan looks down at the astromech. "Is the message genuine?"

"Oh yes, sir," C-3P0 says. "It was a rather daring raid, if I do say so. The plans were stolen from Scarif."

"Scarif? The Imperial Archives on Scarif?" Obi-Wan stares at him. "The planet with complete planetary shielding?"

"Yes, sir," C-3P0 says. "The plans were stolen by an audacious group of Rebels. Admiral Raddus elected to support the mission with the main fleet and they were successful in breaching Scarif's defenses. It might have been more successful but we came under attack from the _Devastator_."

"The _Devastator_? Oh dear." Obi-Wan shivers despite the heat of the day around him. "That's Vader's ship."

"Yes, sir." C-3P0 bobs his head. "However, we were warned to expect danger and the princess's ship managed to escape as far as Tatooine."

"Warned?" Obi-Wan frowns. "By who?"

"Well, by Master Hux, sir."

"Hux?" Obi-Wan stares at the droid. C-3P0 tilts his head.

"Yes, sir," C-3P0 sounds unhappy. "He...well, he implied he was intending to take part in the mission, sir."

"He what?"

"He said," C-3P0 pauses and his cadence changes. Obi-Wan can almost hear Hux speak as the droid recites "that he was 'done with observing' and that it was time to act."

"Well, now," Obi-Wan says. "This is a change."

"I agree," C-3P0 says. "If you would permit me to observe, sir, it seems that Master Hux has decided to intervene once more."

_I dared to ask for a sign,_ Obi-Wan thinks. The Force has a most perverse sense of humour. He has given up on omens in the long years of his exile but this, well, this is as clear a sign as he could have wished for. It is time, at last. Time to leave Tatooine and set about the business of correcting his mistakes.

"The Empire followed you here, you said?"

"Unfortunately yes, sir."

"Then I fear that Luke's uncle may already have run afoul of their troops," Obi-Wan says grimly.

"It would be likely, sir," C-3P0 says sadly.

"Help me with the dead," Obi-Wan says. "We will wait for Luke to return."

"He might be in danger," C-3P0 objects.

"He is in no immediate danger," Obi-Wan says, feeling the surety of that in the Force. "They will not have lingered."

"Well, if you're sure," C-3P0 bends stiffly to lift a small body. Obi-Wan has to close his eyes against the memory of small bodies, little more than babes, illuminated by Coruscant's eternal lights. He swallows and pushes the memories away. That is the past and his focus must be on the future.

* * *

Yamniwe Nuzomi stays in her kitchen with the doors sealed until she hears the last of the Imperial speeders disappear into the sands. She does not hurry. There is no point. She heard Owen's cry. She heard Beru's scream cut off. The Empire is cruel but they are efficient. She comes out as soon as she can because she did not hear Luke. He is a good boy, very like his grandmother.

Shmi would not have stood by while her family were executed. Luke is still young enough to be rash. He would have argued. He would have tried to save them. He would have died but Owen's cry was not grief. Owen would never have tried to plead with trespassers who harmed his nephew.

Yamniwe hurries through the dusk. Night is falling quickly. She sees a speeder pulling away from a smoking fire deep in the dunes. Luke's speeder. Two humans and the protocol droid. Shmi's protocol droid, Yamniwe knows although Owen doesn't -didn't- want that spoken of. She knows Luke by his hair and the cry that makes her duck. The other man...well, it has been years since Old Ben came out of his hills. 

She doesn't call out. Old Ben is taking the boy away. Good. If the Empire comes back, Luke will die too. There is sorrow enough here. Old Ben is wise and Yamniwe used to see him in the night, his sword lit up bright enough to see for miles. He can keep Luke safe. She waits until the speeder vanishes through the dunes as the night falls. The dark comes quick on Tatooine. 

She crosses the last of the dunes, passing some condensers. They've been smashed. Not for parts; she can see at least a dozen useful components with a single sweep of her torch. Just destroyed for the sake of destruction. She mutters a curse on the villains who did this.

It is only when she cannot distract herself any longer that she turns to the house. Two bodies, barely more than skeletons, are lying in the dirt. Yamniwe claps a hand to her mouth and turns away.

"Force be merciful!"

She trips over her own feet when something moves in the doorway. Her heart leaps to her throat. She doesn't even have a blaster with her. A man steps out of the doorway, a pile of blankets piled awkwardly in his arms. He blinks down at her, the dim moonlight shining on his wet cheeks.

"Mistress Nuzomi," he says. His voice is rough which jars her memory.

"Hux." She scrambles to her feet and he looks her over. Apparently satisfied that she doesn't need his help, he crosses to the bodies and sets down the blankets. She knocks the sand from her skirts as he unrolls the blankets beside the bodies. She swallows. Half a dozen platitudes come to her lips. She doesn't say anything.

Instead, she follows him over and helps him move the scorched bones, each onto their own blanket. She murmurs some soft sand-prayers for the departed as he carefully folds the blankets around them. She has a blunt needle in her belt for repairing the harnesses and she offers it to him.

Hux sews the blanket coffins closed and rises wordlessly when he is done.

Yamnize goes into the house, finds some glass blossoms in a jar in the kitchen and fetches out three guiding lights on their thin rods. She comes back out to find Hux digging just to the left of the faint lump that marks Cliegg's grave. She sets the little glass blossoms, already dried out and starting to crumble, at the top of the grave. 

There are other shapes in the dark but no-one intrudes. Hux is kin and he's buried enough of his family that they know not to trouble him. Yamnize frets at her skirts, not sure where to look. The farm is a broken silhouette and even at night, she can see the devastation. She can't look at the too-small bundles that used to be her friends and neighbours.

Someone in the dark starts to sing. Tatooine has many opportunities to learn the mourning songs and Yamnize joins her voice to the others. The voices come from all around; some familiar, some not. Hux digs until there is a grave large enough for both bodies. He drags the bodies over and into the grave. The sands slide and pour into the grave. It's half-full as he climbs out and reaches for the shovel.

Once the grave is filled, Hux stands at the foot of it. The song swells around him, spreading through the dunes and out across the wastes. Hux stands with his head bowed, silent as the songs slowly fade away before the rising dawn. Yamnize stays and she recognizes the nearest neighbours among those who linger as the sky brightens. She will take Hux back to her farm. They can spare enough water for him for the next month or so.

But when the suns rise and the heat starts to rise, Hux lifts his head. He rubs the tears from his eyes and looks down at the graves. He says something, she thinks, but she doesn't hear it. Then he turns and walks away into the sands.

Yamnize goes after him but his footsteps vanish in the shifting sands and she loses sight of him.

* * *

Vader surrenders the princess to Tarkin with some reluctance. He is ...uneasy. The Force is full of shadows and whispers and he struggles to meditate on this monstrous machine of Krennic's. He cannot find serenity in sparring though he destroys many droids in the attempt. He takes no pleasure in the pain of the tortured prisoners nor in their deaths. In fact, watching them die, his stomach turns. He cannot sleep even in the isolation of his own chamber.

For the first time in years, he feels the pull of the Light. 

The girl reminds him too strongly of Padmé. Her beauty, her fire...all of it brings Vader's ghosts to life in his own mind. He excuses his inactivity in his own mind with threadbare reasoning that he would kill any of his flunkies for.

She is a vital source of information. She is a public figure, protected by the Senate and the public gaze.

None of it stops him.

So what does? He broods in the silence of his little capsule and finds no reason. And yet, every time he rises to go back to the cells and end her life, something inhibits him.

He leaves eventually. Tarkin has summoned his toadies for a meeting to address the missing plans. Vader must be present. His Master puts little trust in his High Command and Tarkin is starting to amass more influence than his Master considers his due. Vader will be required to monitor his behaviour for signs of treachery. The petty minds of Tarkin's staff irritate him.

General Motti's disrespect fires Vader's temper. He has no compunction about constricting the man's throat and he very nearly disregards Tarkin's command to release him. His Master will not be pleased to hear of the disrespect that Tarkin has allowed to develop among his staff. Vader does not say this but he observes.

He would not object to terminating Tarkin but he allows the Governor to proceed with his grandiose plans. He does not object when Tarkin elects to destroy Alderaan. The planet is a pit of traitors and arrogance. The Galaxy is better without it and there is no torment Vader knows more likely to break the princess.

There will be time to admonish the man later, after he has destroyed the last of the Rebellion.

* * *

Gestia looks up from her screen at the shocked gasp of breath. The young man who is standing in front of her looks faintly familiar but she can't match him to a name. She smiles pleasantly. "Good afternoon, sir. Do you have an appointment?"

The young man doesn't appear to hear her. He's staring around like a haunted man. She rises to her feet and he lurches backwards. He's armed, she notes but he doesn't seem to notice that. The Royal Guard straighten a little in their places but the man doesn't seem dangerous, just stricken.

"Sir? Sir!" She holds out her hands and he focuses on her. "Can I help you?"

"...No," he shakes himself. "My apologies."

"Do you need to speak to the Senator?" Gestia asks gently.

"No," the man shakes his head firmly. "I apologise for intruding."

"If you're sure," Gestia takes his arm and guides him to the garden door. It is a beautiful day. The sun shines and the grasses are green. In the gardens, children are playing and young lovers are walking arm in arm. The sweet scent of the flowers fills the air and the fountains murmur softly. It is an idyllic day and she can't see any reason for the stranger to look so horrified.

"I can fetch the Senator," she offers again. "He's meeting with the Queen. They can help."

"No," the man shakes his head and his fiery hair comes a trifle loose. Again, Gestia feels a faint stirring of recollection but she can't put her finger on it. "No. I wouldn't want to trouble them."

"It would be no trouble," she assures him, patting his arm. "They would be happy to help."

"No, thank you." He still sounds shaken. Is he a Rebel? Has there been news? 

"I think it might be best-" she starts and he pulls away.

"No," he repeats and there is something in his accent, high Imperial?, that itches at her mind like a bug bite. "I will just...sit in the garden. Thank you for your concern."

He turns away and Gestia watches him make his way slowly to a seat by one of the fountains. She doesn't like to leave him. There's so clearly something wrong and if he's here, he must be here for the Senator. Gestia has worked for Senator Organa for more than thirty years and she knows the signs. He was so insistent though... She goes back to her office but every few minutes, she cranes her neck to see him still sitting there, head in his hands. 

She's going to tell the Senator, she decides. As soon as he comes back from the Queen's office.

* * *

Obi-Wan draws his hood up over his face as a squad of troopers jog past. The Force is still shuddering with the echoes of Alderaan's death and his head is ringing with it. He hurries along the corridor and almost doesn't hear the footsteps that fall in beside him.

He glances sideways and nearly trips over his feet. "Hux!"

"Sh," the redhead's black uniform is almost Imperial and the few Stormtroopers in the walkways hurry to be past him. He is ghastly pale and his presence in the Force, always turbulent, is almost seething. He has one arm curled against his chest as if hiding an injury. "Not so loud."

"You look awful," Obi-Wan informs him and it is true. But it is also a lie. Hux looks as if he has been through a war but there is a vibrancy to him that Obi-Wan has not seen since the days of the Republic.

"I...interfered." Hux breathes out. "Master Jinn was correct, it turns out. The Force isn't willing to let me die. It seems more than happy to exact a price, however."

"The plans," Obi-Wan says. Hux nods.

"He's here," Hux says. "He knows you're here."

"The twins?" Obi-Wan feels a thrill of dread.

"Still hidden," Hux assures him. "Luke is rescuing his sister as we speak."

"Good, that's good."

Hux glances at him again. "He's hunting you."

"I know," Obi-Wan smiles. "I have been expecting this day for a very long time."

"I can't-" Hux looks away. "I don't think I can interfere. Not this time"

"Don't." Obi-Wan pauses and Hux stops, turning to meet his gaze. "I understood the risks. This is not the end, my friend."

Hux squares his shoulders and Obi-Wan is struck by how _young_ he looks. Pale, too-thin and still as straight-backed and proud as he had been all those years ago. Obi-Wan reaches out to catch his shoulder. There is a spreading sense of peace as his destiny approaches.

"I am glad," he says quietly, "so very glad to see you. We did not part on good terms and I said some things that I should not have said."

"I deserved them," Hux says. His voice is flat and his expression has blanked. Obi-Wan shakes his shoulder.

"You did everything you could do," he insists. "You did more than every Jedi and all of the Galactic Senate. You kept hope alive when we were in despair. Thank you."

"I did nothing," Hux's voice is dull. "Only watched."

"You did more than we could have dreamed." Obi-Wan hesitates. "Master Qui-gon, when he spoke of you, he spoke of your capacity for love. He said it would change the Galaxy and that we Jedi had forgotten how much could be done for love."

"Anakin Skywalker loved." Hux blinks and Obi-Wan sees the faint traceries of burst capillaries in the whites of his eyes. "You Jedi were right. Love is a weakness."

"No." Obi-Wan can feel the Dark Side swelling up around them. "We were wrong. The rebels will need help."

Hux meets his gaze and lifts his chin. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan lets go of him, heart lighter than it's been in decades.

"Keep your sabre out," Hux says. "He's faster than he used to be."

"Thank you, my friend."

Hux doesn't follow when Obi-Wan turns down the corridor. He extends his senses, feels Darth Vader's approach and Hux's presence behind him. He unhooks his sabre and hurries back towards the bay.

* * *

It is very, very loud in the Rebel Base, even in the medical bay. Jyn is sitting by the bacta tank with Cassian inside it and drunken, giddy Rebel personnel spill through every few minutes. She's had a dozen drinks pressed on her and Bodhi's been swept up by some of the other survivors from Scarif. 

Chirrut is sitting cross legged with his back against Baze's bacta tank. He looks up as the latest batch of well-wishers tumble out into the hallways.

"It is a good feeling," he nods, "to win."

"Yes," Jyn looks back at Cassian. "I wish he was awake. He deserves to see this. To be part of it."

"He will be," Chirrut says with comfortable certainty.

Jyn curls her fingers around her necklace. She is feeling oddly hollow; like all the emotions have just spilled out of her exhausted mind. It feels surreal. She sees the shockwave boiling through the sea every time she closes her eyes. She's struggled to sleep since their escape. Her dreams are all of Scarif.

Chirrut's eyes close and Jyn sighs. 

She is trying to find a comfortable position when her necklace tingles in her hand. She looks down and sees the faintest green glow in the depths of the crystal. She almost ignores it but it flickers brighter for a second. She gets to her feet and crosses to the door. The light brightens fractionally more as she walks.

The base is bigger than she expected and she's lost within a few minutes. The crystal glows brighter and brighter. She turns a corner and runs out of corridor. There's a viewport, with a familiar silhouette standing in front of the window.

"You."

The redheaded man doesn't turn. "Me."

"You survived," Jyn can't believe it. She creeps forward, necklace slipping from her fingers. He doesn't look injured, standing at perfect attention as he watches the debris of the Death Star rain down into Yavin's atmosphere. She can still see, faintly, the red edges of the burns. Kaytoo had said something about scars, showing what he'd been through. She remembers the ghoulish ruin he'd been between seconds on the beach.

"In a manner of speaking," his voice wavers just a little. Jyn reaches out and he flinches. She stops, keeping her hand outstretched and he rolls his shoulders back, lifting his chin like he's expecting her to strike him.

"You never told me your name," she says.

"It doesn't matter."

"You _saved_ us!" Jyn steps forward, catching hold of his arm. "Of course it matters!"

He's gone still under her hand. She can feel the heat of his body through the sleeve of his uniform. This close, it doesn't actually look like an Imperial uniform. He jerks his gaze away. He's shaking, like Bodhi, like Baze...like Jyn. She steps closer. He watches her like she's a live grenade.

It shouldn't be possible but he's slower on the uptake than Cassian was. Jyn lifts her arms and when he doesn't pull away, she hugs him. He's stiff and awkward, hands jutting out on either side of her. When she doesn't let go, he bends his arms to give her the stiffest hug she's ever received.

This close, his shivers run through her. She can feel him wince away from the arm across his back, see the discolouration on his space-pale skin. His eyes are wet and she presses her face against his chest, letting him have that much privacy. 

"Hux," he says, voice cracking a little. She feels his throat move as he swallows. "Armitage Hux."

"It's good to meet you, Armitage Hux," Jyn says.

He laughs; a cracked, broken sound. "I assure you, it is not. Everyone I've ever met has regretted it."

"I don't," she says and his laugh twists into a raw sound that might have been a scream if it had any volume behind it. She holds him even as his knees fail him. If she was Chirrut, she might have known what to say. All she can think to do is to hold on so he doesn't vanish like he had on Scarif. She doesn't have words for the questions she wants to ask.

His control, when he manages to exert it, is almost terrifying. He lets go of her, stepping back and standing straight. Jyn thinks they must be of an age but the way he stands, the darkness behind the tears, makes her think of Saw's younger followers.

"I..." he stops, flexes his hands and looks out at the debris of the Death Star. "A...he called me 'friend' in the end. He used to call me worse than that before."

"He died on the Death Star." Not a question.

"Yes." Hux lifts a hand to his face. "Not in the explosion. Before. Stupid, stupid fool."

"Everyone is a fool," Jyn shrugs her shoulders. "Going to Scarif was foolish. Getting shot and blown up and-and whatever we didn't see to save Rebel fighters you didn't know was foolish."

Hux looks away, swallows and closes his eyes. They breathe together for a moment. Then Hux exhales and his eyes are sharp when he catches hers. 

"You deserved to see this, Jyn Erso."

She looks at the Death Star's ruins blazing down through Yavin's atmosphere and Hux shakes his head sharply.

"Not the Death Star. This. This is when it starts." He sounds like Chirrut, sure and confident. "The balance is shifting. The Empire is falling."

She can't believe him. Not completely. She can't even imagine it but she can edge a little closer so they're shoulder-to-shoulder and watch the wreckage of the Death Star fall into Yavin's turbulent atmosphere.


	10. For Fate Draws Near

The island is silent, all her inhabitants deep in meditation to greet the dawn. Asajj Ventriss sits under the gnarled tree and breathes in slowly. The other Jedi around her are still and silent. She hears the Force, singing through the very rocks around her and out and out across the empty space between worlds, harmonizing with the life that thrives under other suns.

Asajj opens her eyes as she exhales.

Her shock ripples through the others, eyes opening and scattered gasps of surprise. Asajj does not allow her surprise to show on her face as she rises.

"Master Jinn," she says and the faintly-glowing figure bows. The Living Force shines like an aurora around him. He straightens up and smiles benevolently at her. The sun rises, the first bright rays illuminating the tree behind him and then he is gone. Master Koon clears his throat and bows his head. 

Asajj waits for him to regain his composure before she speaks. Qui-gon Jinn was a good man and a great Jedi. His loss pains them still but Master Koon had been his friend and he mourns him more keenly than she ever could.

"Well," she says, a slight touch of the Force amplifying her words and carrying them to all her fellows. "We were waiting for a sign. I rather think we've just been given one."

* * *

His Master's fury takes hours to expend and Vader is weary down to his bones when he is at last free to return to his quarters. The loss of the Death Star has stirred Sidious to heights of rage that Vader has not seen since the last futile resistance of the Jedi in the first hours of the Empire. Vader has borne his share of his Master's rage and a considerable portion of the dead Tarkin's share as well. He returns to his quarters to await the order to hunt down the Rebellion.

He sends his retainers away as he strips his armour and prosthetics and sinks into the tube. The newest formulation eases the worse of the sores but it makes his missing limbs ache with a prickling feel like static shock. If he were not so weary, it would be maddening. As it is, he sinks easily into the welcoming oblivion of sleep. 

_The room is dark, the sparse furniture all angular and off-putting. There is a bed, shrouded in darkness with a form underneath the sheets, a bundle of soft curves against the harsh lines. He is standing in the doorway and he feels the chill of the air against his bare cheeks. There are strange stars outside the window as he looks around. He breathes in the clean sharp scent of industrial cleaner overlaid on blood and smoke. He is beside the bed suddenly, staring down at a pale shoulder and red hair that looks golden against the dark red sheets._

_His gaze draws back to the man sleeping before him however much he tries to look away and he sees a bruise against the curve of the man's neck that he knows fits his own mouth. His hand reaches out to pull the man over and he feels soft skin under his fingers. Hux rolls easily towards him, eyes fluttering open as he does..._

He jars awake to the squeal of mechanized alerts. The medical droids around his tube swarm in response. His guards are shaking with emotion and Vader comes back to himself in time to stop the droids from taking him out of the tube. He is shaking with the residual emotions from the vision. His mind is his own again; the feelings in the vision fading. Not his emotions, not his feelings.

It has been many years since he shared another's mind (memory?) and he struggles to shrug off the last of this other's emotions. Why Hux? His old friend was always solitary; he never took a lover that Anakin knew of. Why not Padmé? She haunts his own dreams enough. He is too tired to think clearly and the Force slips from his grasp when he reaches for it. It can wait.

He orders the droids to administer the necessary drugs to return him to sleep. Without dreams this time. The faint sting of the drugs running through his veins pulls him back to oblivion.

_He is standing in a corridor. There are troopers passing one of the junctions. The hallways echo in a way that makes him think of a Star Destroyer. He hears approaching foot-steps and turns to see a rag-tag group approach. They are all masked but it is their leader who draws his eye._

_He remembers that mask. Half-buried nightmares that haunted Anakin Skywalker. He moves to stop the leader...and they pass through him as if he is not there. He turns to see them continue on down the corridor. No-one acknowledges him but the troopers scurry from the masked men as they pass through the corridors. There are officers too who duck away like the craven little nerfs that Vader is used to but he cannot shake the sense that the uniforms are familiar._

_Hux, he thinks suddenly. They're wearing the same uniform as Hux._

_As if the thought summoned him, he sees a familiar head of red hair. The leader's head turns fractionally and they turn as a group. He follows, heart beating faster with dread. The group stops, letting their leader go forward. Hux sees them and freezes like a hunted animal._

_"General Hux," the masked leader purrs, crowding the smaller man back against the bulkhead behind him._

_"Supreme Leader," Hux's expression is brittle in a way that makes something clench in his chest._

_"You are keeping busy, I see," the masked leader looms over him. Hux's throat moves but he doesn't cower._

_"There are many matters requiring my attention," Hux says and flinches from the hiss of the mask._

_"You have become most...diligent." The masked leader's hand curls in the air between them. Hux's eyes flick away and down. He leans away as the masked leader leans in._

_"I find myself with a surplus of time," Hux says with a supercilious smile. "Diligence is the hallmark of a good officer after all."_

_"You persist in this rebellion?" The 'Supreme Leader' demands in a low tone._

_"Are you ordering me into your bed, Supreme Leader?" Hux's voice is barely loud enough to hear. Hux flinches as the 'Supreme Leader' raises his hand and the Force between them contracts. He feels the constriction that closes around Hux's throat; not enough to harm but tight enough to frighten. Hux swallows but keeps his chin up and eyes on the masked monster before him._

_"I have no need to order you, General," the 'Supreme Leader' snarls. "You will learn your place."_

_"I know my place, Supreme Leader." Hux's voice is thready but strong. The masked man releases his throat and Hux sags slightly back against the wall. They stare at each other for another moment, then the masked man turns. His cloak brushes Hux as he does and Hux stiffens into a perfect at-attention stance._

_The masked figures stride away, leaving Hux looking after them. His expression is a perfectly bland mask but his eyes are pained. He seems almost to diminish as he bows his head and turns away as if every step pains him._

Vader wakes with a seething knot of rage and pain in his gut. He destroys three of the droids who extract him and sends his more fragile organic caretakers scuttling back to their places. He goes forth to the sealed capsule and seeks focus in meditation. He finds only more misplaced rage. He reminds himself again that Hux is dead and surely safe in the Force where no pain can reach him. His instincts rage regardless and he is pleased when word comes that the probes hunting the Rebellion. He has need of a suitable target to vent his rage.

* * *

The Alliance orders the abandonment of Yavin-4 fourteen hours after the Death Star's destruction. Jyn is part of the meeting, feeling scruffy and out-of-place amid the veteran leaders and she mostly holds her tongue. The world still feels unreal, as if she's drifting through a dream but she listens closely and makes a few suggestions. Most of their people are scattering; the infamous and the injured are going to Hoth. Their victory was not anticipated, Mon Mothma says, so strategies must be adapted.

Jyn agrees that staying would be foolish. She refuses the suggestions that she take command of strangers. She feels a little foolish; a little like the starry-eyed child Saw rescued. But then she remembers Cassian's eyes and the half-smile in the shuttle, the way he'd clawed his way up the tower with broken ribs and a fractured spine to save her. How he'd looked at her as they limped to the beach. She thinks of Baze's soft eyes and 'little sister': Chirrut's relentless optimism: Bodhi's wide eyes and the way his shoulders relaxed when he looked at her and she even thinks of Kaytoo, looking down at her over the blaster and she cannot imagine leaving them.

"Very well, General Erso," Mon Mothma says. "Then you'll have to go to Hoth."

Jyn is halfway through nodding when she registers the title. "General?"

But they're all getting to their feet and the council is starting to break apart into individual groups. Mon Mothma smiles serenely at her as she sweeps past. Jyn shakes her head and decides to worry about it later. She has her people to worry about. The medical transport is the fastest, best-kept ship and there is barely room for the wounded. Cassian and Baze are still sleeping when she helps carry their stretchers onto the ship. There is no room for anyone who can walk unaided and she hesitates on the ramp, unwilling to leave them.

"I will keep watch," Chirrut promises airly and pats her shoulder as he passes. Jyn watches him take his place between Cassian and Baze's stretchers. She has to hide a smile as the flustered doctors try to throw him off and Chirrut rebuffs them serenely. One even tries to fetch Skywalker to argue with him which Jyn genuinely wishes she could stay long enough to see.

Unfortunately, she has to bully one of the medical droids into taking Kaytoo on the ship. He's still insufferable and he doesn't like being kept from Cassian. He still hasn't forgiven the Rebellion for leaving him on the shuttle during the celebrations. Jyn makes a point of giving him Cassian's blaster and he behaves himself long enough to get loaded on the medical ship.

She ends up leaving on their stolen shuttle with Bodhi. He's nervous and she can't really blame him. She sits in the co-pilot's seat as he fusses over the consoles and reads the Imperial dispatches that are saved on the internal computer. They are one of the last ships to leave Yavin-4; they won't trigger an immediate alert if they're detected by Imperial ships. She reads through some manifests and directives and a vague wish, too disordered to be a plan, forms in her mind.

"What?" Bodhi peers at her and she blinks, realizing that she's been staring a hole in the console.

"I just-" she shakes her head. "No, never mind. I don't think-...maybe if we had Hux...?"

"That sounds ominous."

They both jump and Hux lifts an eyebrow from where he's leaning against the hatch frame. He looks much better than he did. There's nothing left of his injuries that she can see and he looks alert and energized. Bodhi beams at him, then immediately gets flustered and turns back to the console. Hux comes into the hatch as they take off, gaze lingering on the forests of Yavin-4 as they trail the other ships into orbit. Then he half-shakes his head and looks at Jyn.

"What did you need me for?"

"I-" She hesitates. It's a silly little thing. An entirely selfish thing to ask anyone to risk. "It's Kaytoo."

Hux blinks at her. Bodhi turns to stare at her.

"The Rebellion don't have spare parts for him," Jyn explains. "They barely have any spare droids at all and I thought-"

"The Empire is distracted and not likely to notice someone stealing parts for an unimportant droid?"

"He's not unimportant!" Bodhi bursts out then snaps his mouth shut, looking horrified. Hux actually laughs, a sardonic bark of sound that takes them both by surprise. 

"In the eyes of the Empire, the K2 series are unremarkable workers who perform mundane tasks under close supervision. They're not valuable enough to be stolen because it takes a lot of work to reprogram them and they have a very limited skill-set." Hux lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "K2SO is an exception that they don't know exists."

"That's true," Jyn says wryly. "He's one of a kind but they're not going to notice if someone appropriates some spare parts and I'd feel...better if he was able to move around. The Empire is going to be hunting us and he needs to be mobile."

"You're right," Hux says. "What do you need me to do?"

"There's, uh, uniforms and credentials," Bodhi says. "From the staff that used this shuttle but uh, we don't...I mean..."

"You need someone who looks the part," Hux sighs as he ducks back into the hold. His voice carries back up to them. "Kriffing stupid capes..."

Jyn grins at Bodhi who beams back at her and starts plotting a course. There are a few Imperial outposts in the Yavin sector and he finds one far enough to be only peripherally involved in the salvage and recovery operations. She pats him on the shoulder. "You stay here, okay?"

She goes back into the hold to find Hux stripping off his black coat. He's slimmer than she expects, all long lines and narrow limbs. He's too tall for the uniform to fit but he fastens the catches and lets the cape fall out behind him. He shakes his head and pulls out the cap that goes with the uniform. "It'll pass a casual inspection but we shouldn't linger."

"We won't," she promises as she pulls out her own uniform. It still smells of smoke and the helmet is at least a size too big. Hux turns away, poking at her data-pad. It's an oddly courteous thing to do. He's clumsy about it but that just makes it feel real. He snorts and she does up the fasteners as she turns. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem," he shakes his head at the datapad. "Flight Lieutenant Peavey."

"Do you know him?"

"No," Hux shakes his head. "I know the family. It makes this a little easier."

"I hope so," Jyn smiles at him. "We're relying on you."

"I wish you wouldn't," Hux says a little bitterly and Bodhi calls that they're landing. Hux plays his part to perfection. He's every bit the arrogant, overbearing Imperial and none of the lesser officers even question why he needs spare K2 components. Jyn supervises the loader droids as they stack four crates of parts in the hold and they take off in the shadow of Imperial heavy transports after less than half an hour and Bodhi takes them into hyperspace without anyone noticing.

Hux strips off the Imperial uniform and, despite his obvious distaste, folds it neatly and puts it in one of the crates. Jyn changes back to her own clothes and watches him pull on his own uniform again. He fastens the buttons all the way up to his throat with absent precision, like he's done this a thousand times before. Bodhi peers down at them from the cockpit. "Are-are you staying with us?"

Hux tips his head like he's listening to something they can't hear. His eyes focus again a second later. "I can. For a while, at least."

"Good," Jyn looks at the crates. "I, uh. I don't suppose you know anything about repairing droids?"

Hux's lips twist for a moment before he nods. "I do, actually."

"I could do with your help," Jyn says. "I don't want to damage him more."

"And the Rebels would be happy to see you," Bodhi says. Hux's gaze flicks away and he breathes out in a hiss. "I mean, they would but you don't have to..."

"I'd rather they didn't," Hux says. Jyn looks at him. He looks like Cassian did as they prepared to confront Saw; a man walking to a fate he dreaded but walking nonetheless.

"As long as we cover that hair, it shouldn't be a problem," she offers. Hux and Bodhi both turn to look at her. "I mean, it's Hoth. Everybody sensible will be wearing extra layers and I really would like to have your help with fixing Kay. I'll never hear the end of it if I mess it up."

"How could I refuse such a generous offer?" Hux says sarcastically but the corners of his eyes crease in a smile.

"Hey, at least I'm not asking you to wear a cape this time?"

Hux actually laughs at that, a quiet rusty sound that makes Bodhi stare at him with wide eyes for a second before he smiles hesitantly. Jyn laughs at Hux and slowly, Bodhi starts to chuckle too. They're all still laughing when the shuttle comes out of hyperspace above Hoth and the Rebel ground control hails them as 'Rogue One'.

* * *

"That should do it," Jyn Erso tells him and Kaytoo scoffs.

"I have been monitoring your progress throughout," he informs her. "I am already aware of that."

"So stand up then," she says as she sits back on her heels and Kaytoo takes a moment to quadruple check his stabilizers. His left arm responds immediately as he reaches for the wall to assist himself. The Base is badly designed and he is already assessing the risk of ice on the floor but his stabilizers compensate, 2.35% faster than his previous configuration allowed.

"No problems?" Jyn Erso queries and Kaytoo takes a couple of steps across the uneven floor while Jyn Erso and Red (Sub ID:'Hux') monitor his progress. 

"None," he reports.

"No fluctuations in your stabilizers?" Red checks.

"All systems are operating within specifications," Kaytoo confirms. There is a second of silence before he remembers that organics require explicit reinforcement. "Thank you for repairing me."

"You're welcome," Red says as he stands. There is a gust of air through an improperly insulated doorway and both of the humans shiver. 

"I will acquire some hot drinks," Kaytoo declares. "The temperature will impair your functioning unless you warm up."

He leaves the room before they can object. His analysis suggests a 89.59% likelihood that they will respond unfavourably to a verbal expression of gratitude. Both Jyn Erso and Red seem negligent of their own well-being so it is more efficient to simply address their needs. It is what he does for Cassian after all.

It is concerning that Jyn Erso seems to have found her way into the subset of organics who Kaytoo considers worth the effort of maintaining in optimal condition. Kaytoo is certain that most of his motivation is rooted in how much Cassian cares for her. Cassian is his primary concern. He is sure of that. Any evidence against that assumption can be saved for later analysis.

There is a small kitchen a short distance away with very basic equipment and supplies. It is intended for use by pilots and therefore has a kaf machine that is 100% functional. Kaytoo acquires two cups of kaf by standing within what Cassian calls the 'personal space' of the pilot operating the machine and informing them that he requires two cups of kaf.

He returns to find that Chirrut has found Jyn Erso and Red. Further proof that he has superior navigation skills despite his inability to see. Kaytoo is looking forward to gathering enough evidence to hypothesize on this ability in the days ahead. Now that they have days ahead to look forward to. Chirrut has also brought the princess's frankly out-of-date protocol droid who is accompanied by an equally defunct astromech.

Kaytoo does not care for other droids. They are dull and predictable. Useful for mundane work that would otherwise occupy his time but annoying to spend time around. (It is possible that another K2-series droid might be better company if it was stripped of pro-Imperial programming but Kaytoo considers the risks to greatly outweigh the possible benefits of trying to acquire one.)

"I have brought kaf for you, Jyn Erso and you, Red," he announces. "I did not know you were going to be here, Chirrut or I would have brought another cup."

"Oh no!" The protocol droid intercepts the cup that Kaytoo is handing to Red. "I do apologize, sir. Allow me."

Kaytoo straightens up indignantly as the protocol droid hands the cup to Chirrut and the astromech reverses out of the room. The protocol droid crosses to stand by the door, bobbing his head at Red.

"It won't be more than a minute, sir, I promise you."

"It's fine, Threepio," Red says. "I don't mind."

"Well, I do, sir." The protocol droid sounds like a fussy mainframe complaining about improperly formatted input. "Thankfully I did manage to bring at least one box of Taurine from the base on Yavin."

"Odd priorities," Kaytoo says. "I had not realized tea was a priority."

"I prefer to have Master Hux's prefered beverage on hand whenever possible," The protocol droid sniffs. "He is a very busy man and I am afraid a great many of the people he helps neglect to address his needs."

"It's not a problem, Threepio," Red says.

"You avoid kaf," Threepio, which is a ridiculous name, says pointedly. "You have displayed an aversion to stimulants since before the Clone Wars."

"You were born before the Clone Wars?" Chirrut asks, tilting his head. "You do not sound that old."

"It's...complicated," Red says.

There is a trill from the door; the astromech has returned with a cup of just-boiled water. Threepio makes tea as the humans watch. Jyn Erso is sipping at her kaf when Kaytoo checks and he notes with satisfaction that her heat signature is much improved. Chirrut is drinking the second cup with every sign of enjoyment. Red accepts his tea with a quiet thank you and Kaytoo resentfully tallies multiple indications that he is in fact enjoying the beverage. Kaytoo adds 'Taurine tea' to his list of essential supplies and creates a seperate file to document Red's precise preferences.

"Master Luke is looking for Master Chirrut," Threepio mentions. Chirrut chuckles.

"He is a good boy, that one."

"Very like his father," Red says almost to himself.

"He looks very like his father," Threepio says as if Red's comment was an invitation, "but I think his personality is more like his mother."

"A lucky boy," Red says. "You could argue that it's the best of both worlds."

"I don't know that I would entirely agree, sir," Threepio says. "But I do think he has a great deal of potential."

"He will need more training than I can offer," Chirrut announces. "He is very strong in the Force and I certainly cannot train him to use that lightsabre. He's halfway to being a Jedi already."

"Leave that to the Jedi," Red says wryly. "Kenobi will be watching over him."

"Kenobi's dead," Jyn Erso says. "The princess says he is."

"Death is not the end for Jedi," Red sounds resigned. "Don't worry about Luke finding a teacher. Trust the Force."

"You seem more willing to trust the Force these days," Chirrut says and he smiles when Red looks at him. "I remember you now. It is good to hear you so..."

"Resigned?"

"Optimistic," Chirrut decides, nodding his head thoughtfully. "Your sorrow was palpable and I feared that you had given into despair."

"I had," Red says casually.

"Do you want to join us?" Chirrut offers. "Sparring practice is never wasted and the boy will learn better if he has different opponents."

"No, not today." Red hands his empty cup to the astromech. "I have to go."

"A pity," Chirrut says.

"You're coming back, right?" Jyn Erso asks, eyes sharp. 

"I am," Red promises. 

"Good," she nods and Chirrut bobs his head. Red taps his fist against his chest and ...disappears. Kaytoo cannot identify any method by which he could have exited the small room. The droids were between him and the door. There are no points of egress along the walls and no gaps in the ice that makes up the majority of the structure.

"Interesting..." Chirrut says as he stands up.

"What is?" Jyn Erso asks.

"His voice," Chirrut says consideringly. "When we spoke of Skywalker. There is a great pain there."

"Well, I would say so!" Threepio sniffs and Kaytoo calculates the pressure required to pop his head from his tarnished shoulders. "Master Hux was a very dear friend of his father's."

"His father?" Jyn Erso says with some surprise. "He barely looks old enough to be a friend of Luke's."

"Master Hux has looked like that for as long as I can remember," Threepio says.

"How long is that?" Kaytoo demands. Protocol droids have barely enough memory to run their frivolous procedures and they're highly volatile, easily wiped.

"Master Anakin first brought me online, oh, it must have been at least forty years ago," Threepio says. "Master Hux was already part of the household. Well, when I say he was part of the household...he came and went. Rather like he did just there. He was always there when we needed him."

"And he's always looked like that?"

"Exactly like that," Threepio confirms. "I believe he used to use spare armour from the troopers during the Clone Wars. It helped avoid awkward questions, I believe."

"He really is Red then," Jyn Erso says thoughtfully.

"Oh yes," Threepio tuts a little. "He was never very fond of the nickname, I believe. Master Ani thought it was very funny which is why he never objected very strenuously but the troopers adopted it and he simply stopped protesting."

"Very interesting," Chirrut hums thoughtfully. "Does Luke know about Red?"

"I shouldn't think so, sir," Threepio says. "Master Owen, his uncle, may have mentioned him but Master Hux...the loss of Master Ani was very hard on him. As I understand it, he tried to save as many Jedi as he could and well, he was largely unsuccessful. It was months before I saw him again."

"Huh," Jyn Erso says and she drains the last of her kaf. "I'm going to see if Cassian's out of the tank yet. If you're still looking for sparring partners after that, Chirrut, I might stop by?"

"You would be very welcome, little sister," Chirrut bows to her. 

"I'll check on Baze too," she promises.

"The medical droids insist on sedating him," Chirrut shrugs. "Stubborn old man. They said it would be some hours more."

"I'll check," Jyn smiles at him. "Coming, Kay?"

"Yes," Kaytoo decides. He does not want to spend any more time with Threepio and his astromech. Besides, he wants to be sure that the medical droids are taking good care of Cassian. She smiles at him and he follows her through the corridors, informing her of the status of his repaired limbs and his return to functionality. He is expecting her to tell him to shut up but instead, Jyn Erso smiles at him in a way that makes him think of Cassian.

It is an odd thing. Kaytoo will have to make more detailed observations.

* * *

Vader watches the Rebels scatter from the bridge of his ship and curses the fools he is forced to delegate to. He wants the princess. He wants the boy who piloted the X-wing that struck down the Death Star. The Force is strong around them both. He sees that and knows that his Master must sense this. He has meditated for many hours and his feelings are a confusing mess. He has not been so poorly disciplined since the days of Skywalker.

Skywalker, he thinks. The boy's name is Skywalker. The Empire's spies and informants have gathered a wealth of information on him. All the vermin of the Galaxy are talking of him. He was in the company of Obi-Wan and Vader's informants have told him that the boy lived with his uncle on Tatooine.

He saw the boy, brave amid his grief in the hanger of the Death Star.

The resemblance is not lost on him.

Could the boy be his son? Could their child have survived Padmé's death? Been stolen by Obi-Wan as so much else was? It would be a supremely vicious revenge to steal Vader's son and condemn him to the life Anakin Skywalker had hated so much. It would be very like Obi-Wan.

It should be impossible but when he closes his eyes, he hears Padmé's laughter, sees her fearless resolve in the boy with the blaster who cried for Obi-Wan. He wonders too if this is why Hux plagues his dreams; his oldest friend warning him of what he might lose if he was careless. It would be very like him.

Skywalker, he thinks and for a moment he is not Darth Vader. He is Anakin Skywalker, stealing moments with his wife and planning their shared future in a haze of love and fear. Anakin had been a fool. Vader is older and wiser. He will not make the same mistake.

He will find his son. He will save him from the Jedi and the lies of the Light.

An alien thought, one that might have belonged to Anakin Skywalker, whispers that he will save him from Sidious if Vader's Master tries to kill the boy.

* * *

Cassian curses his legs as he hurries down the ramp. The base on Orteth is too small for the numbers of Rebels who fled to it and supplies are always scarce. The few anonymous shuttles they have have been running back and forth to the reserves they can reach. It is a risk but Jyn insists that they must feed their people. She is growing into an incredible leader, Cassian thinks.

"Do you require assistance?" Hux's voice comes from the far side of the crates and Cassian smiles even as the turn pulls at his healing scars.

"I would not say no to some good news," he says and Hux comes around the crates. He looks tired but relaxed in a way he hasn't been since the escape from Hoth.

"Vice Admiral Ghibb and her forces are safe," Hux reports. "Two ships damaged and ten injured, all expected to recover."

"That is very good news," Cassian smiles. "You should report to the General."

"I will," Hux says. "Once I've helped you with those crates."

"If you insist," Cassian says. With Hux's help, it only takes a few minutes to unload the shuttle. It's medicines and spare motivators for the astromechs. Hux doesn't say anything else but the silence is companionable. It's something that he appreciates; many of the Rebels who have flocked to this little base in a backwater system treat him like a hero from a holo-vid. Jyn complains that half the Alliance switch off their brains when they're around her.

Kay insists that a more accurate figure would be 73%. Cassian should probably be more worried about the two of them bonding but it makes him fond rather than fearful. He hands the last of the supplies to the sergeant in charge of the medical bay before he leads Hux to the crowded little room that is serving as the command centre. Jyn is talking with some pilots. There's a map of the Scarif system on the display, with a constellation of red dots showing the Imperial Fleet. 

He takes advantage of her distraction to just look at Jyn. They haven't talked really. There is never time to talk about the things he realized on that stolen Imperial shuttle on the way to Scarif. They have talked a lot in the few weeks since Cassian came out of the bacta tank, long hours waiting for word from the Pathfinders or sharing kaf just to keep warm as they sit in the mess. Hux looks at him, then at her and there's something bittersweet in the slight smile that curves his lips.

One of the pilots -Red-Three, Cassian thinks- catches sight of them and quickly finishes whatever briefing Jyn is giving. She sends them off with a solemn nod and a quiet "The Force be with you.". The pilots almost trip over themselves to leave the room. Jyn turns to them with a smile and tired eyes.

"Cassian, Hux," she leans back on the station behind her. "It's good to see you. I was starting to think you'd abandoned us."

"I would never," Hux says with a smirk. "I was occupied but I can confirm that all of your transports made it to safety. The Empire's focus on the _Falcon_ meant that everyone else slipped by."

"No word on the princess?" Jyn asks immediately.

"No," Hux says. "She's safe, I promise but she's not going to be in contact for a while longer."

"Dammit," Jyn sighs. "General Draven won't take overall command and the staff won't follow Mon Mothma's orders in combat."

"Thankfully for the Alliance, you seem to be doing a good job."

"Only because I have a lot of help," Jyn says. "Thank you for that, by the way."

"You have good instincts," Hux demurs. "You just need a little perspective. I'm sure your team supply that well enough."

"None of us know how to run an army," Cassian says but he's pleased that Hux thinks that highly of them. It's no mean boast.

"Well, you're about to get some more support," Hux says. Jyn folds her arms and props a hip against the console. "What did Mothma tell you about Fulcrum?"

"Fulcrum?" Cassian straightens and feels his scars pull painfully. He hisses and Jyn comes at once to his side. 

"Ah," Hux turns to look at the display. The green-ish light reflects oddly in his pale eyes, hiding the pupil so he seems almost blind. "So you have heard of them."

"Fulcrum..." Cassian has to fight the urge to lie. Fulcrum is not something he is supposed to talk of. If it were just Hux looking at him, he might give in to the impulse to evade but Jyn turns to him and his clever words fail him. "Fulcrum is a secret asset of the Rebellion, deployed against the Empire's Inquisitors."

"The Jedi Hunters?" Jyn asks.

"Fitting," Hux says and Cassian glares at him. How does he know? Because, unquestionably, Hux _knows_. Cassian can read it easily in his posture and expression. "Fulcrum is the code-name given to the Jedi Knight Ahsoka Tano, the Jedi Order's agent in the Galaxy at large."

"But the Jedi are gone," Jyn says slowly. "Only General Kenobi was left."

Cassian is as curious as she is. He's worked with Fulcrum. Always at one remove, messages traded through contacts and missions that ran adjacent but he has worked with them. He doesn't know anything about them. They work mostly with General Amidala, part of the Rebellion's deepest Intelligence operations. He has never asked questions because it's always been so obvious that he wouldn't get answers and what he didn't know couldn't be tortured from him.

"A...necessary exaggeration," Hux says slowly. "Most of the Jedi were killed prior to Palpatine's coup. Those that survived knew they would doom anyone who offered them sanctuary so they hid. Until the time was right."

"Right for what?"

"To retaliate," Hux says simply. "To fight back against the Sith and free the Galaxy. Fulcrum coming here is proof that the Jedi intend to return."

"Why this Jedi?" Jyn asks. Cassian can see her mind at work as she peers at Hux.

"Ahsoka Tano was Anakin Skywalker's padawan," Hux says simply.

"Skywalker? As in Luke Skywalker? That Skywalker?"

"Luke's father," Hux nods, mouth pursing slightly. He hesitates and Cassian gestures at Jyn to stay quiet. Hux has more to say, he thinks, but doesn't want to say it. "...General Amidala's husband."

"Wait, wait, _what_?!" Jyn shoves off the console. "General Amidala? Princess Leia's mother?"

"And Luke's," Hux says.

"But Jedi never married," Cassian argues.

"Technically they were just forbidden to marry," Hux clasps his hands behind his back and his expression turns opaque. "Love has made wiser people do crazier things than marry and a local official wouldn't question what a Senator and a handsome young man were hiding when they wanted to be married."

"You were there," Jyn says. Hux's posture tightens, pulling in on himself.

"I was," Hux says. "It's ancient history-"

"So, wait, Leia's father was this Skywalker?" 

"Yes," Hux says tersely. "Fraternal twins, I believe is the medical term."

"Force be good," Cassian breathes. An alert chimes from his left; a perimeter alert.

"That will be Tano," Hux says. "You should be there to greet her."

Jyn rubs her face, tugs her jacket a little straighter and looks at Cassian with weary eyes. He feels bone-weary but he nods stiffly in answer to the question in her eyes. Hux is staring blindly at one of the displays; the greenish light leeching all of the colour from his face. Jyn looks at him for a second.

"You don't want to be there, do you?"

"No," Hux says and it's bitter. Cassian can almost feel the sting of Eadu's cold rain on his cheek. Hux looks tired right down to his bones and bitter with it.

"All right," Jyn says simply and turns to the door. Cassian follows her, steps uneven but as quick as he can manage. Hux doesn't turn to watch them leave, a ghost in black amid the displays and the dim red/green light. Cassian curses when he stumbles over an uneven patch on the floor. Jyn is there to steady him and he smiles at her.

They arrive at the hanger just as the ship lands; a small dirty planet hopper with noisy engines. The ground crews hurry to get it secured and the ramp rattles to the ground. Cassian watches their guests with narrowed eyes as they emerge. There's an older man with a snowy beard; a clone, he thinks. There's a woman walking alongside him. A Togruta woman wearing a hooded robe.

"Jedi Tano, I presume," Jyn says and they both stare at her. She smiles. "Welcome to the Rebellion."

* * *

Luke thinks he's been here for four days when R2 whistles suddenly and backs out of Master Yoda's hut. Luke almost rolls back over for a few more valuable minutes of sleep; it can't be dawn yet. Instead, he gets his feet under him, takes his lightsabre from the ledge and hurries out into the murk.

The mist makes him shiver and he misses his bed keenly. The forest looks intact. He can't see another ship. He can see R2's lights flashing and the droid trills a greeting. An _affectionate_ greeting, even.

"Who's there?" Luke calls.

"Good question, that is," Master Yoda is suddenly there.

R2 insists that it's a friend but Luke's thumb hovers over the switch on his lightsabre all the same.

"Come out, you should," Master Yoda says. "Harm you, we will not."

R2 rotates its head and backs up to the clearing where Luke and Master Yoda are waiting. A man dressed in black follows the droid. Luke tenses as the light from the hut catches on his boots and brings out the red in his hair. It looks like a uniform.

"Act rashly you should not," Master Yoda chides without looking away from the newcomer. "A friend to Anakin Skywalker, he was."

"You knew my father?" Luke stares at the man. He can't be more than a few years older than Luke.

"I did." The accent is strange. Luke's first thought is _Imperial_ but it's not, not exactly. The man stops just inside the circle of light and offers them a short, painfully formal bow.

"I'm Luke," Luke tucks the lightsabre away and offers his hand. "Luke Skywalker."

The man hesitates for a moment before he extends a gloved hand. "Hux. Armitage Hux."

"Expecting you, I have been," Master Yoda says.

"My apologies," Hux lets go of Luke's hand. "My itinerary is not mine to control."

"Difficult to predict, the Force is." Master Yoda chuckles to himself. "But bound to the Jedi have you been since this quest you undertook."

Hux folds his arms behind himself, chin coming up into a very military posture. Luke can't keep his eyes off him. "The Force uses whatever tools come to hand, Master Qui-gon said. I can't imagine I'm a particularly useful tool. I certainly did the Jedi no good."

"Think that, do you?" Master Yoda limps forward, leaning on his cane. "Thought that, I did for many years. Learned better, I have. Learn better, you will."

Hux blinks but his expression is otherwise empty. 

"Learn you must!" Master Yoda's cane whacks against Hux's shins. "Teach you, Qui-gon intended."

"I'm not Force-Sensitive," Hux says flatly.

"Force-Sensitive you might not have been," Master Yoda sniffs, "Force-Sensitive, you are now. Embraced the Force, you have. Used it, you have. Accept it, you must and be trained."

Hux looks like he's going to argue but Master Yoda fixes him with a beady eye. Hux meets his eyes for a minute before he bows his head. Luke looks between the two of them. He feels like there's something he's missing. Hux doesn't feel like Ben had or Master Yoda does. He's not as bright but there's something about him. Luke has so many questions.

"Start early today, we will," Master Yoda says, folding his hands over the top of his cane. "Much to learn, there is."

Luke doesn't get a chance to ask any questions for the next few days. Master Yoda is _relentless_. It doesn't help that Hux can run faster, climb higher and last longer. He's very quiet even when Master Yoda is being a pain. He never argues, never raises his voice but there are times when Luke thinks he is going to go for Master Yoda's throat. There's something between them, a mix of bitterness and understanding. Luke pushes himself more than he should and he falls into sleep as soon as he lies down, questions unasked.

One morning, Master Yoda tells Luke to bring his lightsabre to the clearing. Hux watches with his hands folded behind him. Yoda instructs Luke for about an hour before he goes to fetch some water from the hut.

"Don't you have a lightsabre?" Luke asks as he pushes himself to his feet. "Do you want to borrow mine?"

"No. No, thank you." Hux shakes his head. "That was your father's sabre."

"Ben gave it to me." Luke looks at it. "Did you know Ben?"

"Kenobi?" Hux tips his head. "Very well. He was a great General in his day."

Luke stares at him. Leia's message had been addressed to General Kenobi but he'd thought it was just a title for Jedi. "Ben never talked about being a General."

"There's a lot he didn't get the chance to tell you," Hux says. Luke sighs.

"He didn't tell me anything about my parents." Hux looks at him for a moment. Luke fidgets a little. "What?"

"Yoda knew your father as well," Hux says. "He didn't know your mother that well."

"My mother?" Luke drops his sabre. "Uncle Owen never knew my mother. He said. He said..."

Hux looks away. "He didn't like to talk about the past."

"But you knew her," Luke says. "You must have!"

"I knew her," Hux nods. "She is a noble lady. Brave to the point of fearlessness, loyal to a fault and kind to everyone she meets."

Luke looks down at his sabre, trying to imagine. He's never spent much time thinking about his mother. Uncle Owen would talk about his father when he'd had a couple of drinks but he only met Luke's mother once, he said. He said that she was beautiful and very much in love with Anakin. 

"Wait, she _is_?!" Luke drops his sabre. "She's still alive?!?"

When he looks around, Hux is gone and Master Yoda is standing with both hands on his staff, looking tired. "Where'd he go?"

"Where needed he is," Master Yoda says. 

"He said he knew my mother!" Luke spins around, desperately searching.

"The truth he told," Master Yoda nods. "A good friend he was to General Amidala and her husband. Better than he should have been, perhaps."

"So it's true?!" Luke stares at his Master. "My mother is still alive?"

"Hide you, she had to," Master Yoda says. "Safe it was not for the children of Anakin Skywalker. Loves you very much she does. With the Rebellion again, she is. See her you shall, once completed your training you have."

* * *

"I don't like this," Lando tells C-4R3 as he storms through the corridors. "I don't like this at all."

"You really have no other recourse, sir," the droid totters along behind him. "Lord Vader is being very generous, really. You are not responsible for Captain Solo's reckless behaviour."

"Yeah, yeah," Lando snarls. He doesn't like this. He really, really doesn't like this.

"I think you'll find-" C-4R3 cuts off as the door closes behind him. Lando turns to glare at the door. It's locked. 

"Kriffing stupid door." Lando blows out a breath and lifts his hands to rub at his temples.

"You should be more careful," the voice sends him grabbing for the blaster he isn't wearing. The man leaning against the wall raises an eyebrow at him. He's wearing a uniform; must be one of Vader's flunkies. "I'm not but good instincts."

"Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter," the man pushes away from the wall. "You need to be careful. Vader can read minds. He's already subverted your droid."

"Uh-huh," Lando tilts his head.

"He's only going to make the effort to read your mind if you keep protesting," the man says. "He won't bother if he thinks you're going to do what he wants."

"I don't have a choice here," Lando says dryly.

"You shouldn't trust a Sith, Calrissian," the man says as he crosses to the other door. "Always have a plan B."

"Hey now!" Lando gets cut off as the door slides closed. He jabs at the controls but when the door opens onto the landing pad, the man is gone. He looks around but there's no sign of him and before he can do more than look, C-4R3 comes hurrying through the doors.

"Sir, you must come at once. Captain Han Solo is hailing the city!"

"Damn, damn, _damn_ ," Lando takes one last look before he turns back to the unpleasant business at hand.

* * *

Yoda watches the X-wing disappear into the dark sky and sighs deeply. He has done all that he could do. He does not know if he has done enough. Their hope, all their future...in the hands of a rash boy who does not listen. He can feel Obi-Wan's confidence in the Force and wishes he could feel so sure.

His ears perk up as he hears steps approach. "Heard that, you did?"

"I did," Hux's voice is cool and his accent has sharpened again. Yoda cannot read much from his Presence, only something hard and sharp at the core. Like kyber in a star, he thinks. "You're wrong. He has to do this."

"Ready he is not," Yoda says heavily. "Trained he is not."

"You've trained him enough," Hux comes out of the shadow and looks up at the sky. "He can't stop feeling. That was always your mistake. He needs to learn to feel without letting his emotions rule him."

"Harsh words," Yoda says.

_But fair, perhaps._ Obi-Wan looks over at Hux who meets his eyes evenly. Sorrow floods Yoda's senses. 

"He can't be taught that," Hux says wearily. "Your training will never purge his emotions. Ani was proof of that. He has to face his Darkness or it will rule him."

"His sister, in grave danger is," Yoda says.

"Luke isn't the only one who has to face this," Hux says.

_And he will not be the only Jedi to face the Empire,_ Obi-Wan says. _Master Ventriss has sent the Knights forth to join the Rebellion._

"The Empire is doomed," Hux says simply. He does not sound triumphant or gleeful, just weary. "It's nearly done."

"And done soon will be your task," Yoda says, speaking the truth that he senses in the Force. "What then for you?"

"I don't know," Hux says and means _I don't care_. His weariness weighs down the Force and Yoda draws his robes a little tighter around him. He wonders how much more Anakin Skywalker's friend has left to give and what happens when he finally has nothing left to give.

* * *

Chewbacca rages around the cell until his mind clears enough to let him think. Cloud City's cells are strong enough to hold a Wookie. Very well. He will bide his time and save his strength. He will have his vengeance for this. He sees the droid, disassembled and discarded and moves to take out the pieces. The princess... _Leia_ wanted him to be salvaged. Leia has a generous heart and better instincts than Han.

When they get out of this, they will make a good pair. Chewbacca will take his human back to Kashyyyk to hunt the finest quillarat for her. He promises himself this.

He is less certain that he can repair her droid. It is a pity.

"He should be salvageable," the voice that comes from the shadows is familiar. Red. He turns to sweep the human into his arms. Red means hope. Red means an escape. Red will know what can be done. "I...I'm happy to see you too. Could you put me down, please?"

Chewbacca sets him carefully on his feet. Red is too thin, even for a human and his uniform leaves him cold. " _We have been betrayed._ "

"I know," Red shakes his head. "Don't be too hard on Calrissian. Vader was very convincing. There are three Star Destroyers lurking around the next planet. He's starting to have doubts."

" _Can you save Han?_ " Chewbacca is not a fool. Red has some connection to Vader, he's sure of it but if anyone can save Han, it's going to be Red.

"Not here," Red says. "If the bounty hunter takes him, Han will survive long enough for you to do a proper rescue."

" _Jabba will kill him,_ " Chewbacca objects.

"No, not if-" Red winces, pressing a hand to his chest. "I promise that he will be safer in the bounty hunter's hands than Vader's."

" _I do not like this,_ " Chewbacca says. " _But I will obey._ "

"You have to help the princess," Red says.

" _They were going to torture Han,_ " Chewbacca says.

"Yes," Red looks very tired all of a sudden. "He doesn't even know why. Jealous and a fool. He doesn't know why he wants her in his power but he knows he wants her kept close."

" _Lando does?_ "

"No, not Lando. Vader." Red shakes his head. "She's so much like her mother..."

Chewbacca growls a little. He doesn't like the implications of what Red is saying. Leia is a very beautiful young woman and vital to the Rebellion. He nods and Red's posture loosens; his cool scent softens with relief. Chewbacca turns to the crate that contains his dismantled friend and Red comes to his side. Threepio has been damaged, he sees. More cruelty for the sake of cruelty. He growls again, lower and deeper.

"I know," Red says softly. "The Galaxy is a very dark place right now but the Empire is doomed. It won't be long now."

" _Good._ "

Red helps him sort through the pieces and begin the work of putting Threepio back together. They work well and it takes only a few minutes to reactivate enough of his activation and motivator for him to speak. Threepio's first few garbled words are more proof of Lando's treachery. Chewbacca grumbles in his throat. Red hushes the droid quickly and gives some strange orders.

"You have to be quiet, Threepio," he says seriously. "Vader will be watching all of you."

"Oh dear!"

"You cannot draw his attention to you," Red says. He sounds grim and smells of resolve and bitter courage. "Pretend to be a normal protocol droid. Pretend that little bug they put in your systems is working. Do. Not. Let. Him. See. You."

"I take your meaning, sir," Threepio says and jerkily turns his head to Chewbacca. "I apologise in advance, sir, for my coming behaviour."

" _Soon,_ " Chewbacca says to Red, " _I would sit with you and hear the other side of this story._ "

"Soon you might just get that chance," Red says then lifts his head. "They're bringing the princess. I can't stay but I'll be nearby. Stay alert and pay attention. Vader and his Master are very fond of scheming like they're the most intelligent beings alive. That pride is dangerous."

" _We will remember_ ," Chewbacca promises. " _Until we meet again_."

The door opens before the princess who smells of fear, suspicion and resolve, lightly seasoned with fury. Chewbacca moves to steady her as Threepio calls out to her. Her eyes are dark when she looks up at Chewbacca and he feels the stirring of _family/tribe/friend_. He sees his feelings reflected on her face and his rage stirs again. He quiets it and turns back to the droid. Wait, Red said, and be ready. He can do that.

* * *

The boy is strong, fearless in the way only the young are and his love for the smuggler and the princess shines. Vader is more skilled but the boy has good instincts. He fights like Kenobi, his mastery of the forms is sorely lacking but he is clever and fierce. Vader tests him repeatedly and finds him a worthy opponent.

He calls to him and the boy falters. He is easily manipulated and Vader chases him into the pit. He almost succeeds in severing the tie between them but the boy escapes.

Vader goads him, fools him and lures him away into the depths of the station. Let this confrontation be private.

The boy follows, drawn by the sympathy between them. He fights as fiercely as his mother had and Vader feels a fierce burst of pride. He is a fine son. Barely corrupted by Kenobi. He will be a fine Sith.

Vader has to be very careful. He needs to beat the boy but he cannot risk harming him too greatly. Pain is an unreliable path to the Dark. He stalks him through the empty undercity and feels the thrill of battle against a worthy opponent. But the boy is strong in will and in the Force and he is a canny fighter. He stirs Vader's too-easily riled temper and Vader cuts away his hand. His hand and the 'sabre that had been Anakin Skywalker's.

He appeals to the boy as once he had appealed to Padmé.

With much the same result.

He is surprised that Obi-Wan had been so secretive. He feels through Luke's poorly-shielded memories, an echo of his old Master's grief. It is just another deception though, one he can use to break his son's childish belief in the Jedi and the Light. He declares himself and sees the boy waver.

His denials come but Vader feels him bow to the inexorable truth. He reaches for him, reaches for this last fragment of Padmé...

..and the boy falls.

He lives, Vader knows. He can feel his Presence, still strong and Vader turns sharply. There are two garrisons-worth of Stormtroopers in the city. The boy is friendless and alone. He will not be able to escape-

Someone crosses through the corridor ahead of him and Vader's thoughts crash to a shivering halt. He sees...a shape, black uniform lost in the shadows of the corridors. Red hair. A pale face, seen for an instant.

_Hux._

The figure is gone as quickly as he sees it. Vader lurches forward, half-crazed and breaks into a run. He turns the corner, finds nothing there and turns again. He thinks that he was mistaken. Then he catches a flicker of movement; a door closes to his right and he is sure, in the deep quiet of his own spirit. Hux is here.

And Hux is running from him.

* * *

"Chewie, get us outta here!" Lando barely registers the twinge of regret. His city has been good to him but a wise man always knows when to cash his chips and run.

"Where are we going?" The princess proves again that she's too smart to be hung up on Han like she is. Han; there's another, bigger twinge. Damn fool. Wouldn't recognize a hint if a person beat him over the head with it. He never learned to look before he leaped.

"The kid's going to need a doctor," Lando says. He didn't get a real good look at him when they pulled him in but he's pretty sure the kid had two hands before Vader found him. Damn bastard. "That injury's going to be pretty easy to spot. I don't know many medical suites in this system that won't report it."

"Perhaps I can help?"

Lando jumps and his hand finds his blaster. He doesn't get it more than halfway out of the holster before Chewie's got a hold of his arm. The Wookie growls in a distinctly unfriendly manner.

" _I forgive you for attacking my friend. The Empire was watching you. Understandable._ " He shows his teeth and his grip tightens. " _Attacking two friends? That is **not** understandable._"

"Ok. Ok!" Lando releases his blaster and turns to look at their stowaway. "Hey, I know you!"

The guy looks even more out of place against the _Falcon_ 's battered upholstery than he did on Cloud City. This time, Lando gets a closer look at that uniform and it isn't an Imperial one. He relaxes a little; he'd guessed as much when the guy shot those troopers but it's nice to have the reassurance.

"Hux!" The kid pushes himself up in the bunk despite the princess's best efforts. The guy -Hux?- turns to look at him.

"Don't strain yourself."

"Did-did you _know_?" the kid demands. Hux pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply. He squares his shoulders and hunkers down beside the bunk. The princess steps back, watching them both with a frown.

"I did," he says, "as did Kenobi and as Yoda does."

"W-why didn't you _tell_ me?" The kid is tearing up but he clings to Hux with his remaining hand.

"Fear," Hux says simply. "Your father... _Anakin_ was very emotional. He never learned to control his emotions. Sidious knew that and he manipulated his emotions to make him afraid. Easy prey for the Dark Side."

"That's not fair!" The kid's voice cracks and Hux's gaze flicks to the side for a beat. "They should have told me!"

"You weren't ready," Hux says. "The Jedi... Anakin's fall was devastating. He was Kenobi's padawan. He served on the Council with Yoda. They were his friends. So were the Jedi that Vader murdered. They saw too much of your father in you and were frightened of what would happen if you fell too."

"You should have told me," the kid insists.

"...yes," Hux nods. "You're right. I should have told you. I thought Master Yoda was doing the right thing. I thought there was more time. I should have known better."

The kid sinks back into the bunk, all his righteousness drained by Hux's matter-of-fact tone. He doesn't let go of the other man, knuckles white and his breath hiccups in his chest. "Then...will you. Will you tell me about my mother?"

"I will," Hux pats his hand. "Once you've been properly treated and aren't going into shock, I will tell you about your mother."

"We still need to figure out where we're going to find that treatment," Lando points out. Chewie comes back from the secret bay with a medikit. "That's not really what he needs. You said you had a suggestion?"

"I do," Hux turns to the princess. "I think it's time to rejoin the Rebellion."

"I don't know where they are," the princess says. "We scattered after Hoth and there aren't any bases in this sector."

"There is one base," Hux looks over at the astromech in the corner. "R2, you have the coordinates for the false flag base, yes?"

The droid whistles a very formal acknowledgement. Lando is starting to get _seriously_ curious about this Hux fella but he's smart enough to know that it can wait. The protocol droid shuffles out of the way and the astromech rolls over the navcom and starts busily inputting coordinates.

"Is it safe?" The princess looks up at Hux even as she feels the kid's temperature with the back of her hand. "What if Vader's found them?"

"These Rebels know how to pass unnoticed by the Empire," Hux says confidently. "Trust me."

Lando doesn't really but it only takes a glance to know that Chewie trusts him. The kid trusts him. The princess looks reluctant but she nods. He's not going to win the argument if he disagrees so he sighs and goes back to the cockpit. "I hope you've right about this."

He makes it back to the cockpit just in time for the jump to hyperspace. He sits into the pilot's seat, takes a moment to just soak in the old girl. Chewie follows him in and checks the navcom before taking the co-pilot's seat. They sit in silence for a moment. Lando can hear the princess talking and the deeper answers from Hux.

He looks over at Chewie. "So, how are we getting Han out of this pile of rancor-shit?"

" _The bounty was from Jabba,_ " Chewie says. " _I don't think Fett's going to go straight there. We have some time to plan. Leia is smart, she'll have a plan. It would be best to plan._ "

"Yeah," Lando leans back in his seat. "You know, Han never told me how you two ended up in the Rebellion."

" _We were hauling spice for Jabba. Lost the shipment and went back so he could charm Jabba. We were waiting in the cantina in Eisley and this old man comes up to talk to us..._ "

They come out of hyperspace as Chewie is explaining how the kid, Luke, had gotten his shot off to blow the Death Star. Lando's impressed despite himself. He takes the controls as Chewie runs a quick scan. The system comes up as pretty empty. 

"So, where are we going here?" he calls back to the cabin. Hux comes up to lean on the back of his seat.

"Third planet, fifth moon," he says.

"Third planet," Lando steers them towards the big gas giant. The orange and blue swirls make him think of a pan-sector Gorge blaster. "Fourth moon?"

"Fifth," Hux corrects. "I'll ask the princess to get on the comm. I don't know the current passcodes."

"That works," Lando raises his voice. "Your Highness? We could use you up here."

"I'm here," she edges around Hux and takes the headset Chewie holds out for her. "I don't know if this is going to work. I didn't know there was a base in this system."

"No time like the present to find out," Lando winks at her. She crouches by the console, clicking through the channels. She's still worried, a barely there crease between her eyebrows. Lando thinks that he can really see what Han sees in her. What she sees in Han? Well, that's a question for another time. She's listening intently. Lando can only hear static but she must hear something he missed because she smiles. Her whole body relaxes a little and she closes her eyes for a second.

"This is Leia of Alderaan," she says. "I'm looking for some friends of my mother's."

There's a crackle, some garbled words and her smile widens. Relief and joy. He smiles a little himself, just looking at her. He's on dangerous ground here, he thinks.

"I have some friends with me," she says, "and we're in need."

Lando slows them right down as they come around the dark side of the moon. He and Chewie are peering out the window but they don't see anything until she says "Look for the lights."

They still almost miss it. Chewie spots the lights just in time. Lando brings them around. He's impressed. The Rebels have a reputation for amateurism, mostly word-of-mouth. It's why he never bit, no matter how juicy the bait they dangled. This looks slick and professional. He's starting to see what Han sees in them. Well, the 'them' that isn't a knockout of a lady.

He follows the lights down into a cavernous fissure. There are a couple of structures mostly hidden against the walls. Without the lights, he wouldn't have looked twice. They're into the dark before Lando sees a blast door open and the lights of a hanger bay.

It's a small hanger but there are a dozen different ships on the ground. He puts the _Falcon_ down and sees three different groups of people spread out around her. They're all carrying blasters. 

"Warm welcome," he mutters.

" _Warmer than you gave us,_ " Chewie says pointedly. Lando heaves a sigh and pushes out of his seat. 

"You need a hand, kid?"

"Just the one," Luke tries. Hux just looks at him and the kid wilts right back into the bunk. "Um. Yes, please."

"You're gonna be just fine," Lando assures him. Between him and Hux they get him on his feet while Chewie drops the ramp and the princess goes out to talk to their welcoming committee with the droids shadowing her. "I hope you're right about this."

Hux doesn't get a chance to answer. Luke isn't steady on his feet, arm curled against his belly and sweat sticking his hair to his face. Lando moves to stand on his other side and between him and Hux, they get him moving. Chewie comes halfway back up the ramp and lets Lando go down to take a look around.

There's four men standing around the princess. They're all wearing Rebel insignia but that's the only uniform he can see. He thinks they must be brothers until they turn to look at him and he realizes they're identical.

_Clones,_ he thinks. You see them around sometimes, not as many there used to be, of course. He looks around the hanger and most of the men he sees look like copies of each other. He's never seen this many clones before. It makes him a little uneasy but the princess is talking like they're old friends and Luke needs a medic.

He's turning to see how the others are getting on when Lando hears a gasp. His hand is halfway to his blaster when he hears "GENERAL ON DECK!" and the stamp-snap of salutes. Every clone he can see is saluting. The princess looks as confused as he feels. Chewie chuckles and he looks around to see Hux looking bewildered as Luke leans into him.

"You didn't say you were a General," Lando says.

"I..." Hux blinks. "Xan? Is that you?"

"Yessir!" The trooper is practically vibrating. There are tears running down his cheek. "It's...it's very good to see you again, sir!"

"And you," Hux comes down the ramp gingerly. He looks around as more troopers come running until it feels like the whole hanger is full. "I didn't expect so many...this many to defect."

"We helped to establish the Empire," Xan says grimly, "we have an obligation to correct that mistake."

Lando whistles quietly as a murmur of agreement runs through the troopers around him. They're not all clones. Not even mostly clones but he sees tatters of Imperial uniforms, cut and resewn in aggressive lines that are their own declaration. He counts dozens in the ranks he can see, maybe hundreds or even thousands given the size of the base. Some men with medikits push through the troopers who are all staring at Hux like he's the answer to every prayer they ever had.

"Princess?" He doesn't object to the kid getting medical attention but he also doesn't know these guys.

"It's all right," she says. "These are Rebels."

"Wait!" Luke grabs Hux's coat with his one hand. "You promised you'd tell me about my parents!"

"I did," Hux pats his hand and looks at Xan. "But I think there's someone who could explain it better."

"Sir?"

"Naberrie?" Hux says and Xan's expression clears.

"Oh! Yessir, the General arrived an hour ago."

"She'll explain better than I could," Hux says.

"But-?"

"It's not my place," Hux says. "I'm sure Yoda told you that you would meet your mother soon."

"My mother?" Luke stares at Hux then looks wildly at Lando who holds up his hands.

"Don't look at me, kid, I don't know what the hells is going on here."

"I'll be back," Hux says, disengaging from Luke. "If you have any questions after that."

"My mother...." Luke grabs for him again. "Does she-does she know? About my father?"

Hux closes his eyes tight for a second. "Yes. She knows."

"I..." Luke lifts his head and there's something crazed in his eyes. "I felt it. There is good in him. I know there is!"

Lando feels for Hux as the other man sighs. He's seen his share of believers. Conned most of them. There's nothing so easily manipulated as a guy who's sure that he can make the world be fair. Hux's quiet "I know." sounds like a defeat. Luke topples into him, all that stubborn strength running out because Hux won't give him a fight. Lando moves to help the kid stand. Xan comes up to help.

"There is good in him," Luke insists.

"There always was," Hux says. "It doesn't change anything unless he chooses to let it."

"I felt it..." Luke doesn't fight when Hux breaks his hold this time. He's starting to crash, Lando's pretty sure. He doesn't blame the kid. It's been a long day for all of them and this sounds like it's going to be a hell of a conversation, the kind of conversation that shouldn't happen now. Lando pats Luke on the back. 

"Let's get that arm seen to, yeah?"

"This way," Xan nods to the side and Lando supports Luke over to where there's a couple of troopers with a stretcher hurrying over. The princess comes running with Chewie and her protocol droid tottering along behind them. Hux doesn't follow but Lando doesn't notice that until the medical droids are fussing over the kid. 

"Where's Hux?" he asks and the troopers around him shake their heads.

"Gone," Xan says with a half-smile. "He'll be back. You get used to it."

"Uh-huh," Lando shakes his head. "I think I wanna know a bit more about this Hux. Maybe over a drink, if you boys have anything to hand?"

* * *

"We'sa havin' guests!"

Padmé looks up from her datapad. Her smile feels forced and her legs almost fail her. She's spent most of the last two decades in fear but she feels like a child getting ready to address the Senate for the first time. JarJar comes hurrying over but she waves him away.

"You'sa not lookin' so good," he says. "I can tell 'em to come back?"

"No," Padmé shakes her head with a smile. "I have been putting this off for long enough."

"If you'sa bein' sure," JarJar nods.

"I am." Padmé reaches up to touch her hair. It's neatly braided, silver hairs threading through the dark. She doesn't wear anything close to the finery of her Senate days. She would feel better, she realizes, if she was wearing her grand clothes. She hasn't seen Leia in more than a decade and Luke? She's never met him as more than a quiet baby, sleeping against her breast. 

Padmé wonders what they'll think of her and finds that she's afraid to find out.

"General!" Xan salutes as she comes out of her office. His eyes are wet and he's smiling hard enough to crease his whole face. "Our guests are in the medical bay."

"Medical?" Terror turns her lungs to ice.

"Young Skywalker lost a hand to that damn Sith," Xan says and Padmé has to swallow before she's sick. She's never probed too deeply into Xan's memories of the Fall of the Republic. She knows what happened; Bail told her, Tas'hemo told her and even Master Jinn had told her. Xan and his brothers, whatever happened to make them reject their conditioning and disrupt their control chips damaged their memories of the 'cleansing of the Temple'. They remember Vader was there but none of them seem to remember that Vader was still Anakin.

She's never had the heart to correct them. Darth Vader is the Emperor's enforcer and apprentice as Darth Tyranus had been before him. That's all that Xan and his brothers know and in her darkest hours, Padmé envies them. She envies them now.

_How could he?_ she wonders. _How could he? How could he? How **could** he?_

JarJar shakes his head and clamps his hands over his ears as he moans. She can't spare a second thought for him. She has to see her son.

"He's all right," Xan assures her. "Shook up but it was a clean cut."

Padmé doesn't listen. She can't trust her legs enough to run but she finds her way to the medical bay with no memory of how she got there. She stops in the doorway, heart in her throat and looks at her children.

Luke is lying on the bed with Leia holding his remaining hand as the medical droid cleans the stump. For a moment, Padmé is standing by the side of a Republic gunship with the sand of Geonosis clotting the lacerations on her midriff, watching the man she loves as a clone medical officer cleans the stump of his right arm. She blinks and feels the sting of tears in her eyes.

Leia senses her first, turning from her brother with a faint crease between her brows that reminds Padmé of Anakin so sharply that it almost draws blood. She stands, hand pressed protectively against Luke's chest. Padmé meets her narrowed eyes and watches confusion slowly replace her protective aggression. She's so much like Anakin that Padmé wants to weep with the pain from it.

"Mother?" Leia asks, voice wavering between doubt and surety.

"Leia," Padmé says and steps forward.

Luke stares at her and she can feel his confusion and more, she feels the way the Force sings around them, all three. He's shaking and his grip on his sister's hand tightens. Padmé smiles, her heart filling her chest so tightly that she feels faint with it.

"Luke," she says and her children, her beautiful wonderful children, look at each other then back at her. "Oh, my children. I've waited so long for this day. I have so much to tell you."


	11. Endure the Heart remains

They're going to find him. They're going to find him and take him. He's going to be dragged back onto one of the Star Destroyers. They're going to march him out in front of all the troopers and pilots and Darth Vader is going to rip his mind open. They're going to tear all the information about the Rebellion out of his head. They're going to find Jyn and Cassian and Baze and Chirrut and Kay and Luke and Princess Leia and all the rest of them. They're going to find them. They're going to kill them and it will all be his fault.

"Just breathe, Rook."

Red. That's Red's voice. Red's here. Oh Force! They're going to catch Red. They're going to drag him in front of Vader. It's all his fault.

"Breathe for kriff's sake!" A hand presses the back of his neck down. Bodhi gulps in a lungful of air and feels the shaking start. No, no, no! He can't fly if his hands aren't steady. He's the pilot! He has to fly!

"Force preserve us." He curls into himself more, away from the sharp edge to those words. There's a sigh and then someone crowds in beside him, close enough to smother the shaking. Bodhi can't open his eyes but he knows the smell of gaberwool and Red. His body relaxes without his permission and his panic is drowned out by a soft hum. A lullaby. Bodhi knows this song. Bodhi knows this voice. Red is here. They're safe.

When the others come back, maybe hours later, the shaking has stopped. Bodhi is the pilot again.

* * *

It is a quiet day. Chirrut has gone to the market with Cassian and Bodhi. Jyn is sleeping off her sleepless night. Kay is repairing a blown circuit board in the console. Baze runs his rag down the barrel of his blaster and sets it aside. He has cleaned the guns as much as he can. There is nothing to be done. Jyn is sleeping with a hand on her blaster and Kay pauses frequently to run scans over their surroundings with his back to her bunk and his lenses focused on the hatch.

Baze sets aside his guns. Kay looks his way and he nods. The droid does not say anything as Baze leaves through the open port and walks outside. The world they are on is not as dry as Jedha but the twin suns provide enough heat and glare that he does not feel chilled.

Baze does not hesitate to walk around the outer edge of the port. He is a fool but he is not an undecided one. He walks away from the port, through the sparse trees until he is far enough that he can barely hear the sounds of the port and settlement.

There is a flat space, sheetrock not yet broken by the roots of the plants and warm from the sunlight. He sets his blaster down with a heavy sigh and a flicker of motion makes him snatch it up again.

"It's just me," Red's voice relaxes his guard. Baze hums in his throat. It had not been a conscious act; something deep and sure in him knows Red and trusts him.

"What is the trouble?" Baze is already turning his mind to action, wondering how much of their supplies the others have replaced.

"No trouble," Red says with a sigh. "Well, no trouble other than the Empire and its attendant problems that I am aware of."

"That is good," Baze says a little warily.

Red sighs again and there is something exhausted about the lines of his body. "That's why I'm here, actually."

"I don't follow," Baze says.

"I don't choose where I go," Red says. "Not usually. I have managed to influence my movements once or twice but mostly, it is outside of my control."

"Hmm," Baze says. He has never spoken with Red about his habit of appearing and disappearing but he has listened to Chirrut and the boy lament Red's silence many times. It is no more than he expected, truthfully. He has never heard Red speak so freely of his nature before.

"I am not here for a reason," Red says. "But if you saw me, you would not believe that and you would react in a way that might get you discovered. I have found it...easier to avoid being seen when this happens."

Baze looks at him. Red has mostly kept to the shadows in Baze's experience. Baze spent a night listening to the Jedi Tano speaking of the time before the Empire. Jyn had asked about Red. Baze listens for those stories. He has never heard mention of Red's family, his friends or any who await him. 

"I am meditating," Baze says. Red nods and turns away. "You could join me."

"I..." Red huffs out something between a laugh and a sigh. "I never learned to meditate."

"Sit," Baze gestures at the ground. Red opens his mouth, pauses, then closes his mouth and lowers himself to sit on the sun-warm rock. Baze sits so they are facing over the middle of the clearing. "Close your eyes. Breathe."

Red hums and his next breath shudders a little. Baze does not comment. After a few self-conscious breaths that stutter in the inhale, Red's breathing slowly falls into sync with Baze's own. Baze allows the pattern to steady itself before he closes his own eyes. They breathe together in the sunlight and Baze deliberately wills his muscles to relax. It is slow. He has not truly meditated in many years.

"Let the Force flow through you," Baze instructs. "Do nothing. Simply be."

Red scoffs faintly but he keeps his breathing even. Baze has no true Sensitivity to the Force. Nothing like a Jedi. What he has -had- was a willingness to listen. He breathes out and allows the Force to flow through his being. He can feel the life around him, a modest galaxy of bright points beyond his own light. Red is...strange. He shines in a different way than Baze's sisters and brothers did back in the Temple. He is more reserved, a light caged by glass.

Baze can sense...loss, grief as deep as the void of space and under it all, a solid core of resolve and love. It feels strange. Red's reputation is as a saviour and protector. A love for many, Baze would have expected, much like a Jedi and there are traces of that. The love that drives him is not so generalized.

He gets a flash, more emotion than image; a cold world with snow on the ground and skeletal buildings, half-built. A man, tall and strong with dark eyes and darker hair, dressed in armour and robes. The weight of him against a smaller frame, chin digging into a shoulder through the thick coat. The warmth of his breath against an ear. "You've been working for hours. Come to bed."

The flash fades, leaving the echo of laughter and warmth. The feelings it leaves are too close to his own pain; loss and aloneness. Baze breathes evenly and cracks his eyes open the barest sliver. Red has hunched his shoulders and his head is bowed. Baze is not Chirrut. His tongue is stone, not silver and he cannot soothe another's pain with clever words. He can be present and let Red breathe. Let him steal some time to sit with his grief and his loss. Let him be a man, not a symbol.

* * *

Kaytoo does not approve of Luke Skywalker. He is a valuable asset to the Rebellion. Kaytoo will allow that much. He is apparently related to Princess Leia which means Kaytoo will not actively arrange to have him reassigned to missions on the far side of the Galaxy. Luke Skywalker annoys him but it is the fact that Luke Skywalker brought Han Solo into the Rebellion that truly makes Kaytoo angry.

He has expressed his feelings to Cassian who gave him a speech about the importance of getting along. Cassian did not have any rebuttal for Kaytoo's arguments against Solo.

His problem with Skywalker is Solo.

Han Solo and Jyn Erso had some minor dealings prior to either of them joining the Rebellion. This would be fine if Solo did not presume that this (extremely minor) shared history made them _friends_. It would even be tolerable if Solo did not insist that this 'friendship' trumped Jyn Erso's existing relationships. Han Solo is supposed to be courting the princess! Not attempting to steal Rogue One's General!

So, Kaytoo was not sorry when Skywalker told them that Solo had been captured.

He still doesn't approve of Skywalker which is why he is present when Skywalker trains with Chirrut and the Jedi Ahsoka Tano (who Kaytoo provisionally approves of because she has been respectful).

"I was never a Jedi," Chirrut reminds them. "Guardians do not use the Force as Jedi do."

"That doesn't matter," Jedi Tano salutes him with her lightsabres. "Wisdom is wisdom and the Jedi don't have a monopoly on it."

"It's still so amazing to know that there are other Jedi out there," Skywalker says, like an over-eager domesticated lower life-form. "I never knew!"

"We were in hiding," Tano easily parries his strike. "Keep your guard up!"

"Oh, right!" They spar back and forth, Chirrut tilting his head to track their progress. He calls out corrections and they proceed. Kaytoo logs their progress but pays little actual attention. His primary circuitry is assessing the proposed missions that Jyn Erso asked him to review. He is satisfied that there is enough actual work to do that Rogue One will not be able to assist in recovering Solo from his own bad decisions.

He tunes back in when Skywalker extinguishes his lightsabre and turns to Jedi Tano. "Did you really know my father?"

"Of course I did," Tano says as she too deactivates her weapons. "He was my Master."

"I never knew he had a padawan," Skywalker sounds maudlin. Ugh. Organics. Kaytoo does not allow his self-correcting subroutines to highlight that he does not feel this way about the organic members of Rogue One.

"There was some...well, I had a disagreement with the Jedi Order and I left."

"But you're a Jedi now?" Skywalker asks.

"It's not uncommon for Jedi to feel doubts," Tano says. "I didn't feel that I belonged with the Jedi. Master Anakin helped me see differently."

"I can't imagine," Skywalker says wonderingly. "What was he like?"

"Intense," Tano says after a moment's thought. "Loyal. Fierce. He was stronger than anyone in the Force. Brave too. He used to charge into danger whenever anyone needed him. Master Obi-Wan used to say-" she falters "-used to say that he'd have a head of white hair before Master Jinn did."

"My mother says he was a hero," Skywalker's tone is yearning.

"He was," Tano says. "Sidious fooled us all, Luke. He's a Sith. That's what they do."

"But there's still good in him," Skywalker says. "I know there is! I felt it!"

Tano pauses and her tone is tolerant, almost condescending when she replies. "I'm sure you did. Luke, my Master was a good man. He never would have done half of what Vader has. Your faith does you credit. I just don't want you to be disappointed."

"There is!" Skywalker insists. "I know it!"

Kaytoo can see the argument brewing and he is grateful when Cassian comes through the doors. He is tense but galvanized. He sketches a salute at the Jedi.

"I apologise for intruding," he says. "Kay, Chirrut, we have a mission."

"Thank goodness," Kaytoo says, rising from his seated position.

"Kay," Chirrut chides him but the smile on his face undercuts the rebuke. Kaytoo does lower the volume of his scoff and sees Cassian's flicker of a smirk. He leaves feeling entirely vindicated.

* * *

Leia leaves Luke and their mother in the briefing room. There is work to be done. There is always work to be done but she is not going to do it. Not right now. Chewie is supposed to make contact later today and she wants to have some time to gather her thoughts before she speaks to him and Lando. Worrying about Han has been easier than thinking about her family.

It is hard to keep your thoughts private around a Jedi, her father... _adopted_ father used to say.

She walks the corridors of the new flagship, acknowledging the salutes of her mother's troopers. Not her mother's. She can't even think of her mother. She sees Breha's face then Padmé's and she can't decide which one she means when she thinks 'mother'. She lets her thoughts turn to Luke, her brother. That had been easier; the connection between them is still strong. She loves him. Has loved him...

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness." She looks up to see one of the clones standing at attention.

"Captain ...Rex, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Leia, please," she musters a smile. "I'm 'Your Highness' to too many people these days."

"Yes, ma'am." He grins at her exasperated sigh. "Leia. I was wondering if you could direct me to the aft mess? I'm assigned there for meals apparently."

"Of course," she smiles and takes a moment to get her bearings. "This way."

"Thank you, Leia," he says and they walk in silence for a moment. "If it's not...well, pardon my rudeness, Leia, but if you needed someone to talk to...I'm only an old soldier but the ears still work?"

"You're very kind, Captain," she says politely then a thought stops her. "You served with Ahsoka Tano in the Clone Wars, didn't you?"

"I had that privilege, yes ma'am." Rex's smile is fond.

"Did you know..." she can't say her father's name. "Red?"

"Yes, ma'am." He sounds more formal but she feels an echo of that same fondness. "Most of the troopers did. I was one of the ones who knew I knew, if you follow."

"I don't understand," she doesn't understand so much these days.

"He never showed himself much," Rex says a little distantly. "He stayed with us longer than most but he served with just about every army the Republic fielded."

"I didn't know that."

"Not many did," Rex stops by the door to one of the viewing decks. "Do you mind if we stop here? I don't see the stars as much these days."

"Of course," she follows him into the empty viewing area. It's off-shift for the technicians and crews who would be using this floor and they're alone. She stands and looks out over the vast spread of the Galaxy and a part of her wonders how anyone can look at this visa and believe they can own it. She can only barely grasp the greed it would take to be that mad.

She finds a comfort in the vastness of the Galaxy; the reminder that her life is such a small thing in the face of such abundance. It doesn't sting as much to extend her awareness through the Force and perceive the sparkle of far off lives as it does to feel the presence of her brother and mother. She closes her eyes and breathes deep.

The Presence that she senses suddenly, close enough to touch, makes her eyes fly open and she turns. Rex half-draws his blaster as he spins to face the new arrival. The blaster clatters on the deck. The man standing by the viewport doesn't turn for a second. His Presence fills the space around them; a storm of sorrow and exhaustion that steals her breath. For a moment she can't breathe.

"Red," Rex breathes and at last, he turns.

He looks like he did in on Cloud City and in the _Falcon_ afterwards; a young man; too thin and too pale. His hair is bright even in the dim light and the immaculate black uniform cages him in precise lines and sharp angles. He's handsome enough despite the guarded expression on his face, she thinks. He barely glances at her, most of his attention on Rex.

Rex, who has snapped to perfect attention and salutes. Red looks at him, half-shakes his head and taps his fingers against his forehead in return. Rex drops the salute and lunges forward to catch Red in a crushing hug.

"Thank the Force!" he says as Red wheezes. "It's bloody good to see you, sir!"

"You too," Red manages as he carefully returns the embrace. He's taller than Rex but Leia's half afraid Rex is going to snap him in two. "It is good to see you well, Captain."

"Ah, I'm no Captain," Rex lets go of him. His wide smile belies the tears in his eyes. "Just another Rebel, same as you and everyone else."

Red's smile is fleeting. Rex glances at her and clears his throat. "You've met Princess Leia, I presume?"

"Not formally," Red says but as he turns to face her, Leia can't help but stare. She's seen him a hundred times, more probably and it's true that they've never formally been introduced, barely said even a word to each other and yet...

"I...I _know_ you," she says slowly. Her heart sinks as she steps forward and he leans back. There's a weight of guilt that she can't explain or deny. He feels like...like someone she knows for all that they've never met. But it feels like her fault suddenly. She looks into pale eyes that have seen too much and "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Rex looks lost but Red's eyes widen for a second before he waves her apology aside. "Don't be. You were right."

It helps although it leaves her just as confused as she was, some of the guilt eases. She ducks her head to wipe her eyes and when she looks up, Red has relaxed very slightly. Rex frowns at them.

"What was that?"

"Echoes in the Force," Red says before she can admit that she has no idea. "Strong Force-Users aren't always bound by temporal limitations. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so," Rex folds his arms. Leia finds a smile and steps forward, catching an arm of each of them.

"Gentlemen," she says as they both blink down at her. "I need your help."

"Anything we can do," Rex says. Red doesn't say anything, just narrows his eyes at her.

"You served with my father in the Clone Wars." She doesn't stutter over the words. "You were his friends and comrades. You knew him."

"We did," Red says over Rex's prevarication.

"I don't," Leia says bluntly. "The man my mother loves, the father my brother wants to save...I don't know him. I can't see him in the monster the Empire made of him. I can't see past that but I want to. So..."

"So?" Rex says doubtfully.

"There's spirits in the aft mess and Gold squadron are on patrol and not likely to be using it for the next few hours," she says. "Tell me about my father."

Rex nods immediately. Red looks like he'd rather she asked him to take a blaster shot or a knife to the belly but slowly, he nods too. Her smile feels fixed and a little fake and she's pretty sure that she's going to need a lot of alcohol to get through this. It feels like the right thing to do all the same.

* * *

They're still laughing when they reach the fringes of Mos Eisley. Lando and Han are telling stories while Leia, now wearing both Luke's coat and Lando's armoured breeches over the scanty garments Jabba had left her, helps Chewie get the worst of the sand out of his fur. Luke is piloting. The transport handles like a bantha-barge but he knows these dunes. He looks out over the dunes.

They can't be more than ten minutes from the edges of the farm. He can see the distant gleam of the condensers, the ridge where the Jawas set up shop every twentieth day...He almost turns aside. For a moment, he can imagine taking Leia back to the farm. The look on Uncle Owen's face. Aunt Beru hugging them all one by one. It's so real that he forgets for a moment and then, it hurts all over again.

"I miss them too, Master Luke," Threepio says very quietly. For his ears alone. 

"It's not fair," Luke says as he rubs at his eyes. "They didn't deserve what happened to them."

"No," Threepio says gravely. "They did not."

"I never even..." Luke has to swallow a sob. "They weren't even buried!"

"I am sure that Master Hux saw to that," Threepio interrupts the spiraling guilt of his thoughts. "He has had enough experience, after all. He cared very much for your aunt and uncle, you know."

"How could you know that?" Luke snaps and immediately regrets it. "I'm sorry, Threepio-"

"I lived with them for several years," Threepio reminds him. The droid looks out over the distant horizon. "He spent as much time as he could spare with Mistress Shmi. That would be your grandmother, sir. He was there for her funeral and for your grandfather Cleigg's funeral, I know. He would have seen it as his duty to see to them, given that you could not, sir."

"I should thank him," Luke says. "I never thought.."

"Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, sir, you had more pressing matters to deal with," Threepio says. "Master Owen and Mistress Beru would never have wanted you to endanger yourself for such things."

"Yeah," Luke swallows and manages a shaky smile. "You're right."

"Of course I am, sir." Threepio shuffles around to stare at the smoke of Mos Eisley. "I do hope that nobody has stolen our ships."

"They're fine, Threepio." Luke extends his senses and yes, there's Ahsoka. Her Presence is serene and alert; no sense of any danger or trouble. "I have a friend waiting with them."

"Very good, sir," Threepio bobs and takes a step back as Han pushes past him.

"So, you said you lived here, huh?"

"Right over there," Luke says. 

"You must have had a whole lot of fun in this dump," Han says.

"It wasn't so bad," Luke says casually. "Up until the Empire murdered my family and Ben and I went on the run."

"Oh," Han peers at him sideways. "That sucks, kid. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Luke says and has to blink away tears. "I found the rest of my family once we were gone."

"It still sucks," Han says and loops an arm around his shoulders to hug him. "And I'm still sorry it happened."

"Thanks, buddy," Luke smiles. It feels, just for a second, like he's heading out to Anchorhead with his uncle and aunt standing at the door to wave him off. They'd be proud of him, he thinks and that helps. It helps a lot.

* * *

It's like old times, Ahsoka thinks as Luke steers them out into space. He flies like her Master, attuned to the Force and daring. She can feel his trepidation and there's a little fear of her own. She hasn't seen Master Yoda for years and there's a part of her that's still the scared little padawan convinced that she'll never be a Knight. She can feel the weight of the trust Master Ventriss and the rest of the Council placed in her and she breathes deep as they go into hyperspace.

Dagobah is still an empty system, the baseline thrumming of unintelligent life filling her senses. Even knowing that he's here, she can barely sense Master Yoda. No wonder he's survived so long without Sidious finding him.

"Here we go," Luke says, half to himself and Ahsoka reaches forward enough to pat his shoulder. "I hope he's not too angry with me."

"He won't be," she assures him.

"I hope you're right," Luke says as he steers them into the atmosphere. It's a bumpy ride. Ahsoka wishes that her jump seat had a little more padding and she hears R2 complaining over the rush of the wind. They land hard enough to rattle her bones but the ground holds under them and Luke breathes a great sigh of relief. 

Luke vaults out of the cockpit with the boundless energy of the young. Ahsoka climbs out more slowly and breathes in the air. Dagobah is oppressive, the air hot and moist with abundance and decay. The Force is a torrent around her and she feels the weight of it with every breath.

"Are you coming?"

"Yes," she slides down the side of the X-wing. "Which way?"

"Over here." Luke leads her through the trees and the mist with a confidence that Ahsoka envies. She sees a warm golden glow ahead and her steps quicken. Master Yoda's dwelling is simple and harmonious. It is full of his Presence but Yoda himself is sitting on a stump by the wetter part of the swamp, humming softly.

"Master Yoda!" Luke calls and he turns his head.

Ahsoka trips over her own feet as Master Yoda looks them over with wise eyes. She could be a youngling again, clumsy and well-intentioned, chasing butterflies in the gardens of the Temple.

"Expecting you, we have been," Master Yoda says.

"We?"

The shadows beside Master Yoda shift and resolve into a long familiar silhouette. It's like watching one of the magical pictures that street shops used to sell on Coruscant; one moment there's only shadows and trees, then there's a man. Hux's hair is loose, falling into his face as he turns to look at them.

"Hux!" Ahsoka is moving before she can think better of it; faster than Hux can react. He's solid in her arms. Thinner than she remembers and there's a fever-heat to him that makes her worry. He oofs but his arms come up to hug her back. Ahsoka thinks of other times, the dust of far-off planets and the sound of troopers. She's grown a little but he still towers over her. "Force, I've _missed_ you!"

"It was for the best-" Hux shakes his head. "No. That's not the point. I missed you too, Snips."

The old nickname brings fresh tears to her eyes and she hugs him tighter. His arms are strong around her and she lets the tears fall. An ache that she'd lived with for so long that she'd almost forgotten it was there eases and she weeps. Hux holds her through the storm and when she pulls back enough to look up, his eyes are wet. She hugs him again. "I'm so glad to see you. I thought..."

She thought a lot of things but sometimes, in the darkest times when the Empire's might seemed inexorable, she'd wondered if he'd been too disappointed. In the Jedi, in Anakin and in her. Coming back to the Rebellion meant seeing his shadow, hearing the whispers of 'Red' and the shape of his passing. Ahsoka had always known Hux could avoid being seen and it had hurt so much more than she expected that he hadn't let her find him. She knows better now with him right there.

Through the Force, she can feel how faded he's become. His Presence was never as bright as the Jedi he served but now, she can feel it. The only thing keeping him together is that durasteel will. She wants to cling to him, keep him safe and protected until he doesn't feel like a ghost wearing human form.

"Master Yoda?" Luke's voice recalls her to her duty and she lets go of Hux reluctantly.

"Master," she says as she kneels before him.

"Kneel to me, you should not, Knight Tano," Master Yoda says. His Presence in the Force is so powerful when she feels it this close but she can feel the peace running through him. His time is very nearly spent. "A poor Master have I been."

"No," she shakes her head. "You've done so much, Master Yoda."

She opens her mind to him, lets him see the Temple and the Jedi who have trained there. She lets him see it all and in answer, she feels a contentment that sinks into her very bones. He is pleased, she knows and when she silently offers the small kyber crystals that the Council sent she feels the emotions and the memories they impressed on them. Master Yoda bows his head.

"A great kindness this is," he says gruffly. "Good it is to know that the Jedi will endure. As it should be, it is."

Luke comes forward to help him as he stands. She can see his concern in his face. He really is so like her Master that Ahsoka's heart aches. Master Yoda shakes his head at Luke.

"Mourn you should not, young Skywalker," he says. "Found your sister, you have."

"I have," and there's a steady joy in those words. "But Master Yoda, why didn't you tell me?"

"Ready you were not," Master Yoda says. "Very like your father, you are. Used by the Emperor were his fears. Feared that you would succumb to the Dark, I did. Dangerous is it still."

"I won't kill him," Luke says. "I can't kill my own father!"

"Then fallen into the Emperor's trap you have." Master Yoda shakes his head. 

"There is still hope," Hux says and Yoda turns to him. There is a long minute where they look at each other. Ahsoka can dimly sense something of what passes between them but she holds her tongue.

"If say so you do, believe it I must," Master Yoda says. "Owe you an apology I do. And many thanks."

"You owe me nothing," Hux says sharply. "I didn't do this for the Jedi."

"And yet," Master Yoda leans on his cane and looks up at him. "Saved us, you have. Kept hope alive in spite of all Sidious did, you did. Owe you much do we all. And thank you, I do for saving my Padawan and the Padawan of my Padawan. Paid a heavy price you have and sorry I am for that."

"It was no-one's doing but my own," Hux says. "I don't blame you or your Jedi for the choice I made."

"Peace there will be for you," Master Yoda says and the sound Hux makes in response is ugly. "Faith you must have in the Force."

Hux turns away. Luke and Ahsoka help Master Yoda to his hut. There is barely room for the three of them but Ahsoka does not complain. It will not be long now, she thinks. Master Yoda teases them gently and suffers their help to climb into his bed. He offers his final blessing in a soft voice, barely a whisper.

"Yours the duty is now. Be brave and trust in yourselves, you must. With you, I will always be. In the Force."

Ahsoka leans into Luke as Master Yoda closes his eyes and his Presence stretches out into the Force until there's nothing left in the hut with them. Luke buries his face in Ahsoka's shoulder as Master Yoda's blanket falls to the bed, only barest impression showing he had ever been there. She cries with him amid the lingering sense of peace and serenity that was Master Yoda's last gift to them.

It takes no time at all to set the hut to rights; quenching the fire and taking the food out to where the wildlife will find it. The hut will be reclaimed by the swamp and the forest in time, Ahsoka thinks and that too feels right and proper. When they have finished, she looks around but Hux is gone again.

* * *

"Captain Andor." Cassian stops dead in his tracks. The personnel rushing along behind him flow easily around him. He turns to stare. Hux looks as out-of-place as ever in the Rebel base. He looks thinner, Cassian thinks, paler too.

"Hux," he glances around and sees an empty supply room. Hux follows his nod and they step out of the hallway. "It is good to see you, my friend. We just got word-"

"It's a trap," Hux says flatly. Cassian freezes. "The Emperor leaked the plans intentionally to lure the fleet to their deaths."

" _What?!_ " Cassian spins towards the door but Hux catches his arm.

"It isn't going to work," and Cassian turns back slowly to search pale eyes. Hux has never lied to them before. Cassian would trust him with his life. Has trusted him with his life, he amends. But this is the stuff of nightmares. Pilots are filling the corridors, the bays are emptying of fighters. "People are going to die, yes. I...I'm _sorry_. I can't change that but the strategy will work in the end. The Emperor thinks he's the cleverest being in the War. He's too arrogant to realize that the Rebellion can win. The plan will work. Eventually. It's going to be harder, much harder than the first Death Star was but the Emperor will be on that station. When he dies, so does the Empire."

"What about Vader?" Cassian demands. "The Moffs and the Admirals will follow him. Not willingly, perhaps not at first but he's a Sith Lord. He can hold the Empire together."

"Luke is going to deal with Vader," Hux says. Cassian frowns at him. He doesn't dare say Vader's old name. Luke and his mother have been careful about their connection to Vader. He won't risk it but he thinks of Luke's wide-eyed faith in the essential goodness of the Force and he worries. "He believes he can save him."

"Is there anything left to save?" Cassian asks bluntly. He knows what General Amidala would say. He knows what Leia would say if they told her. He knows what he thinks but Hux has always known more and seen more clearly than any of them. If there's anything of Anakin Skywalker worth saving in Vader, he trusts Hux to know.

"Yes." Hux doesn't hesitate. He takes a deep breath before he continues. "I... The shielding that keeps him from sensing that Padmé still lives is fading. Luke doesn't have the training to reinforce it. If- _when_ Luke gets close enough to Vader, he'll sense the bonds between all four of them."

"That could be disastrous!" Cassian rakes a hand through his hair. "What if the Emperor learns of it through him?"

Hux bites his lip, his agreement showing in the stiff line of his shoulders. His reply is cut off by the approach of light, quick steps.

"Cassian? Are you in there?" Jyn pokes her head around the door. "Hux?"

"General Erso." Hux inclines his head, only the creases around his eyes betraying his smile.

"What are you doing here?" Cassian winces at her bluntness. "And how can we help?"

He has to wrap an arm around her waist and press his lips to her cheek to keep the ridiculously sentimental things she makes him feel from spilling out. His brave star who loves just as fiercely as she fights. Cassian loves her.

"I can't warn Luke," Hux cuts a hand through the air, "even if he was willing to listen. I can't risk it. I can't risk Vader seeing that memory."

"You really did know him," Jyn marvels softly.

"No." Hux shakes his head immediately. "I knew Anakin Skywalker. I have, very pointedly, never even met Darth Vader."

"But you want to save him," Cassian presses. He's not a fool. They're going to help Hux. They owe him too much to refuse. He remembers Scarif in his nightmares almost every night. He's watched the man in front of him take the brunt of the Empire's cruelty to save a ragtag band of nobodies without anyone to even mourn them. Hux could ask anything of them and Cassian would try to give it to him.

"Anakin Skywalker was a good man," Hux says, a little distantly. "He was a pawn in the hands of powers that should have protected him, not used him. All everyone ever saw when they looked at him was a weapon. He deserved better than that."

Cassian looks down to catch Jyn's eye. She nods, arm tightening around his waist before she looks back at Hux. "What do you need?"

Hux's whole body sags three centimetres as he exhales.

"Thank you." He clears his throat roughly. "I-we need to talk to Padmé."

"She was going to the main control room," Jyn says. She reaches out, hesitates for a second before closing her fingers around Hux's wrist. Cassian catches the bare second of surprise before she's tugging Hux towards the door.

Cassian leads the way but it's Jyn who spots the General off to one side of the main bay. Hux freezes when he sees her and Jyn shoots Cassian a worried look. He waves her back and enters the hanger alone. Cassian's never spoken to her about anything but immediate operations. It's strange to think that she must know Hux. The Princess has let enough slip that it's not a complete surprise but it still feels surreal.

General Amidala is watching the knot of pilots gathering around the ships that will make up the attack wave. Technicians and engineers are performing the last checklists, loading the last of the ammunition. The General's attention is focused on the _Falcon_. Cassian can hear Solo reluctantly entrusting his beloved rust-bucket to General Calrissian. The General's eyes are on her daughter as Leia laughs.

"General Amidala," he calls quietly. She turns dark eyes to him and smiles faintly.

"Captain Andor," her gaze wanders back to the shuttle that her daughter is boarding before she focuses on him again. "What is it?"

"I need..." Cassian hesitates. He feels like a green recruit, tripping over his own words. "A private word, if you would. Please?"

"Of course," the General turns to follow him and the tap of Chirrut's staff on the deck warns Cassian that the rest of Rogue One are close. He leads the General back to the observation room. Jyn is standing by the door, warding off the curious with narrowed eyes. Hux is standing in the centre of the room, at attention, like a man awaiting the firing squad. He flinches when General Amidala gasps.

" _Hux?!?_ "

"Your Highn-" Hux's reply gets cut off when she barrels into him, arms clamping tight enough to force the breath from his lungs.

"You-!" Her voice wavers and cracks into a sob. Hux looks... He looks like he did on the beach, with blood between his teeth and nothing but pride to hold him up. "You!"

"Me," Hux rasps. It's barely a whisper. His arms open hesitantly and settle delicately around her shoulders. "I. I am so _sorry_."

"Don't." She buries her face against Hux's stark black coat. Cassian can see her white-knuckled grip on the back of his coat. "Don't you _dare_ , Armitage Hux. If you must apologize? Apologize for leaving. Apologize for two decades of saving my life and _running away_. Say you're sorry for that!"

"I _failed_ ," Hux says. "I couldn't. I didn't save him. I didn't warn you."

"You did everything you could do," General Amidala says, like a royal proclamation. "You saved my children. You saved my life. You would have saved Ani if there had been any possible way that you could have. I know that. I've _always_ known that."

Hux's throat bobs as he swallows and Cassian sees the gleam of tears as he ducks his head. He averts his eyes. Jyn has a hand on her necklace, eyes distant. Chirrut is standing behind her, expression uncharacteristically sombre. Baze plants himself with his back to the door and he meets Cassian's gaze with a grunt.

"Armitage, eh?" Baze says after a moment, a brief smile on his lips.

Hux looks up, blinks and shakes his head. "Yes. I'm afraid so."

"It suits you," Baze says. "Good to know."

"You said you needed our help," Jyn reminds him. Hux blinks rapidly, tears catching in his eyelashes, and straightens up. General Amidala lets him draw back and rubs at her own eyes. Jyn folds her arms. "What do we need to do?"

Hux rakes his hair back from his face and takes an unsteady breath. "We need one of the captured shuttles," he starts.

"You'll need a pilot," Bodhi pipes up. He ducks past Baze, shoulders hunched and arms folded defensively and bobs his head. "A _good_ pilot."

"And given your frankly appalling security measures, you will require additional support," Kay follows Bodhi into the room. He tips his head to peer at Cassian, photo-receptors flickering. "In fact, it's an insult that we were not included from the beginning."

"We've barely started planning," Cassian says immediately. Bodhi nods and Kay studies him for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Acceptable, I suppose." He turns to Hux. "Continue."

Hux looks amused for a second before he continues. "The Emperor's arrival allows for a narrow window of opportunity."

He lays his plan out in clear sentences. Cassian thinks idly, as he listens, that the Rebellion would have benefited with Hux as part of High Command. The plan is meticulous, precise and utterly insane. There's a moment of silence as everyone processes.

"You want me to stay behind," General Amidala says. Her tone is flat and her expression is stormy.

"I want you to command the attack," Hux says. "As you were intending to."

"You don't think I can reach Ani?" The General fixes him with a piercing gaze. Cassian leans back, sees Bodhi wince but Hux meets her stare head on.

"On the contrary, I know you _can_. That's why you absolutely cannot be on the Death Star." General Amidala blinks. "Luke is a stranger. Vader's barely internalized that he actually has a son. He doesn't know him. He certainly doesn't love him. Not yet. That's why Palpatine is going to let Luke 'infiltrate' the Death Star to try and save him. Vader's Master of decades or a stranger? Sidious knows how that is going to work out.

"Well," Hux's smile is knife-edged, "he thinks he does. But you? You are an entirely different matter, Padmé. Ani loved you more than anything in the Galaxy. Palpatine knows that he still does. Vader's loyalty to his Master is rooted in the belief that Palaptine has always told him the truth. You are literally living proof that is a lie."

General Amidala blinks and Hux takes her clenched hands in his.

"Anakin loved you enough to destroy the entire Jedi Order and the Republic right along with it," Hux says. "He _still_ loves you. That's the chink in Vader's armour. If Palpatine learns that you're still alive, he has to kill you. He doesn't have any other option. You're the ruin of all his schemes."

Cassian rubs his face. Jyn is folded in on herself. Bodhi is leaning into Chirrut and the two Guardians are stone-faced. General Amidala rubs her eyes, blinking rapidly. "I don't like it. I'm never going to like it. But I think you might be right."

"If it makes you feel better," Kay says brightly, "you are still at 89.76% probability of death by being present for the assault of the Death Star."

"KAY!" Cassian and Jyn say in unison. General Amidala looks up at Kay and laughs.

"It actually does," she admits. "As illogical as that sounds, it does make me feel better. I never liked it when people tried to leave me behind for my own good. I still don't like being left behind but at least now, it's for tactical reasons."

"The plan hasn't changed," Hux says firmly. "The Rebels still need to attack the Death Star. Everything else is...details."

"I believe you," she says softly. Then she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, visibly settling back into her rank. "Let's find you a shuttle."

Nobody is paying any attention to them as they hurry through the corridors. Pilots are saying their goodbyes, bravado and fear echoing around corners. Support crews are yelling about supplies and space. The requisitions officer doesn't blink when General Amidala commandeers a shuttle captured two days ago for a vaguely defined 'mission'. The hanger-side sergeant doesn't even listen to the full orders, just hands Bodhi the control keys with a salute.

"The legend of Rogue One," Hux murmurs sardonically. "They're expecting another miracle."

Cassian itches to snap at him. He can't risk it. The personnel around them look right past Hux, as they always do. He should be causing a panic; he's too clean and crisp to be a Rebel officer. Nobody notices and he doesn't dare risk drawing attention now of all times.

"Leave some of them for the rest of the fleet, eh?" The Sergeant salutes again before she turns back to the organized chaos of the hanger.

General Amidala smiles at her, then looks at them. Her gaze lingers on Hux. "Good luck. Bring them back."

Cassian salutes, sees Hux and Bodhi do the same. They both start the salute as Imperials, fist to chest and both correct in almost the same second. It's almost funny and the General salutes in return.

"May the Force be with you," she says quietly, "and with us all."

There's nothing else to say. They file onto the shuttle. Bodhi and Kay take the cockpit with Jyn hunkered down by Bodhi's seat. She prefers to see what's in front of them. 

Baze braces himself against a bulkhead, absently checking his guns. Chirrut settles beside him, legs crossed, one hand on his staff, and the other hooked into Baze's belt. It's odd to look at and Cassian shifts his attention to Hux who is braced against the opposite wall. He looks as exhausted as Cassian feels.

"Do you really think this will work?" he asks.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Hux says. The shuttle shudders through hyperspace and Jyn pokes her head back to tell them that they've made it into the Death Star's airspace. Hux turns to the lockers and goes rifling through the uniforms of the former crew.

Cassian is already dressed as a minor officer but it's Hux who's going to have to play the senior officer. The white coat looks entirely wrong on him but he settles the cap with perfect precision and he certainly looks the part. He does scowl at the cape.

"Ridiculous."

"I don't know," Cassian manages a thin smile. "You certainly look very ...striking."

"We've been cleared to land," Jyn calls. Cassian's smile withers on his face and Hux looks grim. "Five minutes to landing."

* * *

Vader almost admires the boy. Even in the face of all the evidence, he persists in this foolish quest to resurrect a long dead fool. The silent guards that share the shuttle pay them no heed as he tries in vain to argue against the truth before him. He has no friends to save him. His only weapon, a lightsabre that feels almost familiar, is in Vader's hands. And yet he persists. It is ...irritating.

"You still trust him," the boy has not learned prudence. "You still believe in him."

"He is my Master," Vader says.

"He's a liar!"

Vader barely restrains the impulse to strike him. "This resistance is futile. You will surrender to the Dark. The Emperor has foreseen it. He is your only hope to save anything of your friends."

"He has foreseen," Luke scoffs.

"The Emperor is a master of the Dark," Vader warns him. "He has been my only friend and saved me when Obi-Wan betrayed me."

"As he told you he would save my mother?" Vader tenses, the old pain rekindled. How could he know that? Vader had never spoken of Palpatine's promise to Obi-Wan and how else could he know? "But he didn't save my mother."

"Because Obi-Wan interfered!"

"No," Luke stares at him with bright eyes. Shmi's eyes, he realizes. "Sidious didn't save my mother. _Hux_ did."

Vader staggers and volcanic rage boils up. It is only those eyes -his mother's eyes- that stay his hand. "Padmé is _dead_. So is Hux. You will not use them against me!"

"They're not," Luke steps forward, heedless of the danger. "Search your feelings. Search the Force. You know the truth."

He is lying. He must be lying. Vader reaches out, determined to prove his lies. He finds...a shadowy Presence. Weary and sardonic and at the core; love. He knows Hux. He has been searching for his friend since Cloud City. It feels like the old days on Tatooine when Hux watched his podraces, appearing in the stands before Ani knew he was there. It feels like Hux stepping in the sunshine, smiling at the boy who had only his mother, his droid ...and Hux.

It proves nothing. Vader will take this boy to his Master. Then he will find Hux and take him to safety. He will save his friend.

Then, he feels it. A steady two-step beat. A heart. He feels the shadows recede and dimly, painfully, he feels the first rays of a too-familiar light. He reaches and for the first time in far, far too long, she reaches back. The connection is raw and terrifyingly fragile but he knows her. Every fibre of his being is attuned to her.

Vader feels her fear, her pride and her love.

He retreats but he cannot escape. Her light follows him into the deepest darkest recesses of his being. He leads Luke to his Master, his mind sealed against all intruders. He does not pay attention to the underlings who scuttle around them like vermin. He brings his son to his Master. His Master does not look into his thoughts, too focused on a petty display of his power.

"The son of Anakin Skywalker," the Emperor gloats. "You are strong in the Force. You will make a fine Sith."

"I am a Jedi," Luke says. "As my father was before me."

"By now you must know that your father can never be turned from the Dark Side," the Emperor hefts the lightsabre. Luke baits him only for the Emperor to reveal his plan. "Everything that has transpired has done so according to my design."

"No," Luke says. "You're mistaken. Even if we fail, there are others. The Rebellion will live and the Jedi will carry on the fight until your Empire and your evil are nothing but memories!"

"Jedi?" the Emperor turns and Vader feels his power strike at Luke's mind. His son cries out and his shields fail him for an instant. "You lie!"

"I am telling the truth," Luke grates through clenched teeth. "And Asajj Ventriss sends her regards!"

"NO!" The Emperor howls and discards the 'sabre to cast lightning from his fingertips. Luke flies backwards with a cry of pain. The Emperor. No, _Sidious_ steps forward.

"F-ather," Luke pleads and Vader feels Padmé across the space between them. "Help me!"

Vader closes his eyes and Anakin Skywalker knocks the Sith from his feet with a roar. His lightsabre flies to his hands but Sidious is already rising to his feet and the lightning flashes. His body, the mechanized hull that remains, convulses and jerks. He falls with the Sith's laughter echoing in his ears. 

He has failed.

* * *

The air crackles and spits with lightning. Young Skywalker is shaking, feeling the Force slip through his fingers. His father is a crumpled shape before the throne and the Emperor's laughter rings in his head.

They are so close, the guards scattered like broken dolls around them. In the void beyond the window, the Rebellion fighters light the sky with weapons fire. Skywalker's sabre shakes in his unsteady grip and falls to the ground.

The Emperor rises, hurling another blast of lightning and Luke screams. His knees buckle and he can't keep his feet.

"Now, young Skywalker-" the Emperor starts.

The Force goes still. The lightning vanishes as if it never was. The Emperor looks up and past the fallen bodies of his apprentices. There is a figure standing there. A young man with fiery red hair, wearing a uniform that looks almost Imperial.

"What is this?" The Emperor hisses.

The young man inclines his head. "Grandfather."

Then he raises his blaster and shoots the Emperor in the head.

* * *

Jyn stands by the throne and the cooling corpse of her nightmare. The Emperor is a shrivelled husk of a man, his wasted body almost drowned in his robes. She can still feel the charge of his lightning in the air. The body smells of dessicated rot and stomach-turning perfumes. She sees his discarded lightsabre and has a wild impulse to snatch it up and chop the body into pieces.

Kay comes to stand at her shoulder. He looks down at the body with her. Then he shoots it, twice with the blaster she gave him.

"Kay!"

"What? I'm only being cautious," Kay fires once last shot, right into that smirking face. Jyn shakes her head and turns back to Luke and his father.

It makes her trigger finger tighten to see Vader clinging to Hux like a drowning man clinging to a raft. Hux is staggering under the weight of the other man and Luke is trying to keep them both on their feet. She releases her grip on her blaster and goes to help.

"It's you," Vader says over and over. "It is. It is you!"

"It's me," Hux says and Vader lets go of him to claw at his helmet.

"Off, get it off," he begs.

"You'll die!" Luke objects.

"Not necessarily," Hux says. "Kay?"

"Ah, I was wondering why you wanted to steal those medical supplies," Kay crosses to assist and Vader's awful helmet, star of many Rebel nightmares, falls to the deck with a rattling clang. Hux kicks it into the chasm with one neat motion. The face underneath is pale and wrinkled. Jyn peers at his eyes and sees only blue. Not the sickly yellow of the Emperor's. 

Vader lifts his head and stares at Hux. There are tears in his eyes. He reaches out again. Again, Hux allows it and if Jyn had any doubts left that this really is Anakin Skywalker, that settles it. He catches Hux's upper arms, eyes searching his face.

"Force be merciful," he rasps. "It is. It is you."

"I feel like we've established that," Hux says. "We have to go. The shield is down. The reactor's been blown."

He pauses for a second before he adds "and your wife and daughter are waiting for you."

"Padmé..." Vader almost falls to his knees and it takes all three of them to keep him upright. "How can I face her? What can I possibly say?"

"I suggest you start with 'sorry'," Hux says. "She loves you, as she always has. Don't squander it this time."

"How can she want to see me again?"

"She loves you," Hux repeats. Vader sobs, a harsh rattling sound. "She never stopped. You never stopped loving her, Ani. Stop running from it."

"I thought she was dead," Vader moans. "I lost you, I lost her, I lost our child. I had nothing but anger and hate! How can she love me like this?"

Jyn feels a twinge of sympathy and tries to smother it immediately. Hux rolls his eyes even as he pulls one of Vader's arms over his shoulders. Luke immediately does the same on the other side.

"You'll have to ask her," Hux says. "But that means that you need to start walking because, as I mentioned, this station is about to blow up."

Vader doesn't resist and Hux glances at Jyn, then back to the body of the Emperor, then back at the thermal detonator on her belt. Jyn nods and pulls two of them off her belt. The fuses are only set for a minute but the doors to the Emperor's throne room are heavily reinforced. They barely feel the quake of the explosion.

She's hyper-alert as they make their way through the Death Star as its death throes unfold around them. It doesn't matter; most of the crew are like bilge-rats abandoning a foundering ship, more concerned with their own survival than the odd little group winding their way to the hanger. Kay takes a great deal of pleasure in shooting the few troopers who do try to stop them. Jyn is trying to watch every direction at once and Luke is coaxing his father along. Hux steers them all with occasional quiet order, like he's listening to something even the Jedi can't hear.

"I saw you die," Vader says suddenly. "In-in the Temple."

"The Force has a perverse sense of humour," Hux says dryly. 

"They shot you!"

"It wasn't the first time," Hux says and Vader sucks in a wounded breath. "It doesn't matter, Ani."

"Of course it matters!" Vader manages something like a shout and has to stop to gasp for air. "You died!"

"I died a lot," Hux says and Jyn looks away. "I chose to save the ones I could. I knew there would be a price. It wasn't your fault."

"They wouldn't have-"

"Sidious would have sent the troopers in to 'cleanse' the Temple with or without you," Hux interrupts. "You wouldn't have changed anything, Ani."

"If I'd listened to Master Windu," Vader sounds like one of the troopers, not the merciless executioner of the Empire. "We could have stopped him. If I hadn't intervened, Master Windu would have stopped him!"

"You did what you thought was right," Hux says. "You don't know that Windu would have struck him down. Sidious had plans within plans. Don't blame yourself, Ani."

"You-you ran from me. On Cloud City." Vader sounds like the child he must have been and Hux sighs.

"I ran from _Vader_ ," he corrects. "I don't know what Sidious would have done with me but it wouldn't have been pleasant."

"I wouldn't-" Vader sounds uncertain. "I wouldn't have let him have you. I wouldn't have let him hurt you."

"I've been promised that before," Hux says tersely. "It was a lie then too."

"I wouldn't," Vader repeats and they manage to crowd into the last functional lift. The doors open and there are Cassian and Baze, poorly disguised with Imperial hats and stolen coats.

"Jyn!" Cassian comes running and skids to a stop. He stares at the broken wreck of a man hanging between Hux and Luke. "Is that-?!"

"My father," Luke shouts as a fresh wave of explosions rock the whole station. Cassian exchanges a worried look with Baze and they both look at her. Jyn shakes her head and waves them to the shuttle. Kay takes Hux's place as the three of them hurry up the ramp. Another explosion and the shriek of tearing metal gives her just enough warning to look up as the TIE fighters fall from their stowage in a cacophony of destruction that knocks the deck out from under her feet.

She lands badly. Cassian screams. She sees Hux's outstretched hand and _something_ pulls her clear. She rolls, finds her feet somehow. There are fires everywhere. She can hear screams and bellowed orders. More screeching metal and the shuddering impact of distant explosions. Cassian reaches her in one long step and pulls her back and up onto the ramp. She looks for Hux; finds him standing with his shoulders back and chin up as he watches the fires spread.

"What are you doing?" Jyn has to shout over the screeching metal and the deafening clamour of alarms.

Hux looks up at her, smiles and steps _back_. "Everything has its cost, Jyn Erso. A life saved and now, I owe the Force a death."

"No!" Cassian catches her arm. The fire light catches on the corners of Hux's eyes. He's still smiling and Jyn thinks of her father, pouring rain, and howls. Cassian is shaking at her side.

"Thus the Empire falls," Hux says. His voice carries over the distant boom. "The future is yours. Make the most of it."

He taps his chest with his fist then raises his hand in a more familiar salute. Bodhi is screaming that they have to go, Luke and Chirrut are restraining Vader/Anakin and Kay is holding Chirrut off the ground to keep him from running to the rescue. Hux is still saluting when the decking fails. The shuttle's ramp slams closed, scattering them across the cabin and they're flying.

Jyn clings to Cassian and they shake as the shuttle blasts through the explosion and out into the clear cold space beyond.

* * *

The celebrations are quickly filling with Rebels and distant Ewoks come to celebrate. JarJar and Admiral Ackbar are singing some drunken combination of Gungan and Mon Calamari drinking songs, arms around each other's necks. Padmé sees her daughter and her daughter's pilot around the fires. She will go to Leia later, she thinks. She feels as old as the forest around them and draws her cloak tighter around herself. The Rebels are celebrating, drunk on their impossible victory.

Padmé passes through the revel like a shadow and finds a small clearing just outside the village. She sits on a broken stump of a tree and sighs.

"Sena- _General_?" Ahsoka's voice is soft.

"Ahsoka," she smiles and holds out her hands. Her husband's padawan comes to her on light feet and kneels in front of her. "The Emperor is dead. The Sith have fallen."

"I felt him die," Ahsoka confesses as she leans into Padmé's legs. "So much greed. So much evil."

Padmé thinks of the Senator who had been her friend and shivers. She looks up at the sky where the wreckage of the second Death Star is descending through the atmosphere. Fragments of debris trace fiery trails across the night sky and cross paths with the Ewoks' fireworks.

"Do you know?" Ahsoka asks, so softly. "They said that-that Vader was with his Master."

"He was," Padmé says around the lump in her throat.

"I did not feel him fall," Ahsoka says and presses her face into Padmé's cloak. "I am afraid to reach for him. I don't know if I am afraid to find him gone or afraid that he lives."

"Hux went to help Luke," Padmé says. It isn't really a lie. "If anything of Anakin remained to be saved, they will have saved him."

Ahsoka's tears soak into her uniform and Padmé hums. She hums the tune that Hux had hummed and feels the Jedi pressed against her sob. She has no tears for herself. Her eyes are dry as she searches the sky. She is so very tired, she thinks.

She remembers Anakin, a thousand stolen moments that are golden in her memories. She remembers Mustafar. She remembers the Force closing around her throat. She remembers her babies crying.

"Love," Hux had told her once, "is a terrifying thing."

She loves him still. Padmé knows it. She loves Anakin as Hux loves his mysterious lover. Inexorably and unchangingly. She will die loving him. It is no longer a source of wonder but it is no longer a source of pain either. It simply is.

She loves him.

"I love him too," Ahsoka says and her hand is warm around Padmé's cold fingers. "I wanted so badly to find him again. I wanted to save him."

"We all did," Padmé says. Her eye catches something; a faint burn of atmosphere around a dark shape. A purposeful trajectory. Her hand tightens around Ahsoka's and the Jedi lifts her head.

"Is that-?"

"I think so," Padmé rises to her feet, Ahsoka's hands on her shoulders. She cannot look away from the slowly descending shuttle. It is a shuttle, she can tell. Asoka moves to stand beside her, one hand on her lightsabre.

The shuttle takes an eternity to pass through the atmosphere but it comes to them as if following a homing beacon. Padmé breathes in the exhaust fumes and the wet, rotting scent of the forest and thinks _Please._

The shuttle lands and the ground sinks a couple of centimetres under its weight. The lights wink out and there is a hiss as the ramp descends. She sees Cassian first, blaster in hand. Then Kaytoo, then the grizzled Guardian with his blaster.

"General!" Cassian calls and she sees the gold of her son's hair behind him.

Ahsoka's free hand finds hers. Padmé blinks away the blur of tears. Luke comes forward, his bright eyes searching and finding her. His whole face lights with his smile and he looks so much like Anakin that her heart aches with it.

"Mother!" He calls and falters, turning back. 

Padmé's breath locks in her chest as he tugs a tall form forward. He still has Vader's height, the black boots and gloves but the helmet is gone. His skin is pasty, cruelly wrinkled around the respirator and the folds around his eyes are red. His eyes are still blue, she thinks.

He sees her. He staggers, weight toppling into Luke. He stares. Padmé stares back. He lifts a hand. She tenses and feels Ahsoka take half a step forward. He pushes away from Luke. He staggers down the ramp like a drunken man. He stares at her. He takes two more steps. He falls to his knees. He stares at her. He lifts his hands to her in supplication.

"Padmé?" His voice cracks.

"Ani," she breathes and she is moving forward before the word fades from her lips. He wraps his arms around her waist as she reaches him. "Anakin."

"Padmé," his voice shatters and he sobs against her chest. Her tears flow. His skin is soft under her rough fingertips. She can feel the buzz of the electronic devices that keep him alive. He weeps, clinging to her like he had on Tatooine, on Geonosis.

She folds over him, wraps her arms around him and they weep together. 

She remembers Ahsoka after a few minutes and lifts her head. Ahsoka is staring at Ani, tears flowing like a waterfall down her cheeks. Padmé smiles and reaches out for her. Ahsoka doesn't seem to notice at first, all her attention on her former Master. Then she looks at Padmé, tears still flowing.

"It's him," she says. "It is him."

Padmé smiles and Ahsoka runs to them. Ani doesn't loosen his grip on her but she can feel something pass between them. Cassian and his team leave them alone in the clearing, gone to join the celebrations. Luke comes to join them and Padmé kisses his hair as she hugs him. "You did it."

"I had help," Luke says and his eyes are full of sorrow. "H-Hux, he-"

Padmé goes still. "No."

No. No, no, no. The Force cannot be this cruel. It cannot give her back Anakin and take Hux. Not now.

"He-He wouldn't get on the shuttle," Luke says against her neck. She can feel her son shake. "He said-he said that a life saved...meant he owed the Force a death."

Padmé feels Ani shaking against her in concert with her son's grief.

"He had e-everything," Luke says. "They stole supplies so Father didn't need his mask. They had a medical droid waiting. He got us out. He could have come with us. Why didn't he come with us?"

It's a wail and Padmé shushes him. She holds her family together with her arms and with her words. When Leia comes, sent by Erso or Andor, Padmé draws her in. There is much to talk of and more tears to shed. She brings them back to the huts, lets the children join the festivities and lets Anakin lean heavily on her shoulder as they find seats a little apart.

He folds his arms around her, as easy and thoughtless as breathing and she leans into him. A flicker of blue draws her attention in the second before she feels Anakin stiffen beside her.

Three figures stand by an abandoned fire, haloed in blue light. She stares at them. Yoda is looking at the main celebration where Asoka and Leia are listening to Luke's story while Han tries (and fails) to pick up four cups of the Ewok moonshine at once. Obi-Wan, Ben, is looking at Anakin with pained eyes. Master Jinn is standing at his shoulder, smiling serenely.

"Master," Ani rasps. "I-"

_I know,_ Master Kenobi smiles. 

_Rejoin the Jedi Order, you must,_ Master Yoda leans heavily on his stick. _Part of the Galaxy again they must be. Do better, you must. Learn from our mistakes, you should._

"I'm not worthy," Anakin pleads.

_You have seen what it means to fall,_ Master Jinn says. _You know what it costs. It is your duty, Anakin and your penance._

Her husband shakes against her, fresh tears in his eyes. "I can't be a Jedi. I can't leave Padmé, Masters. Not again. I won't. I won't survive it."

_Leave her, you should not,_ Master Yoda agrees. _Be a Jedi, you still can. Too detached did we become. Forget to love, we did. Change the Code must._

_You will be a valuable lesson to them,_ Obi-Wan says. _They will need your wisdom, Anakin. There is much work to be done and none better to do it. It is your destiny._

_It is your penance,_ Master Jinn says gently. _You must help them, Anakin._

"I will," Anakin promises and Padmé looks to Master Jinn. He had always been Hux's prefered confidant. He had always had faith in the Force and Hux's ultimate aims.

"What about Hux?"

Master Jinn's smile fades. _He is gone from the Force. I can find no trace of him. It may be that his task is finished. He may finally be at peace._

"No!" Anakin shakes his head. "Master, please! He can't have died. Not for me. Not without saying goodbye."

_Suffered much, has he,_ Master Yoda says sadly.

_Yes,_ Master Kenobi looks at them. _Hux has done so much for the Galaxy and for you. Let him go, Anakin. Let him rest. He has earned that much mercy from the Force. ...and from you._

Anakin drops his head into her shoulder and she feels his grief like a howl at the edges of her mind. Master Jinn looks sadly down at them.

_He wanted you both to be happy._ he says. _More than anything else in this war. He wanted you to love each other and be happy._

"We will," Padmé manages through her own tears. It seems impossible at that moment when all she and Ani can feel is what they've lost. She winds her arms around her husband and lets her own tears come.


	12. Epilogue: Not A Farewell, Just a Goodbye

The unofficial celebrations last for days. The civilians celebrate wildly, freedom intoxicating after so long in oppression. They celebrate too, in their own ways. Spread out over the quadrants and systems, quiet and under the radars of the old authority and the new, they go to work. The Empire's fanatical followers disappear; the tyrants and monsters that Palpatine encouraged sicken, die or just ...vanish.

Not all of them. Maybe not even most of them. Just the worst of them.

It is quiet work, done in silence and when it is done, they come together. Their small groups easily lost in the larger celebrations. They come together in the fringes and they embrace and tell stories through the night. They share this moment with the only ones who could possibly understand and weep for losses that the greater Galaxy will never hear of.

Before that, massed together for this last time, they pour glasses full of contraband liquor and stand in silence. The older troopers stare upwards as tears run down their cheeks. The newer troopers hold their glasses and swallow the fear of the future in favour of the belief that they have done what was necessary.

"To Red!"

The answer comes from uncounted thousands of voices, speaking as one. "To Red!"

When the first of the memorials goes up, a simple slab on a middling world where the Empire was bloodied and poured out an ocean of blood in return, the holo-news report on bizarre acts of vandalism. A red mark painted on the bottom of the list of etched names. Complaints are made to the planetary Governor, even to Mon Mothma herself. No-one knows why she orders that the red mark be etched into the stone where even the most diligent washing cannot remove it.

They know. 

So when the next memorial goes up and the next, the mark reappears until the designers simply start to include it in future designs. Nobody ever seems to know why it's used and more fanciful legends spread among those who never fought. They never speak up; Red never welcomed notice. They simply keep his memory in their shared silence. It is as he would have wanted.

* * *

"They're here," Ahsoka tells Luke. He gulps, hands fussing over his hair and his coat as he peers around her. Leia shakes her head at him and neatens his coat. Her own nervousness is barely perceptible through the fondness. Luke smiles at her and Ahsoka thinks they're adorable.

"General! General Amidala!" JarJar comes crashing through the outskirts of the village, scattering Ewoks and hungover Rebels as he does. "We'sa got guests!"

"Thank you, JarJar," Padmé says calmly from the door of the hut that Wicket had allocated to Leia's family. Ahsoka darts a look back at her. "We will need some privacy."

"Leave it to me!" JarJar nearly takes out his own eye with his salute. "I'sa make sure that you'sa not bothered!"

Luke and Leia move to stand by their mother and for an instant, Ahsoka sees the family resemblance as they look out to where their guests are coming through the trees. Ahsoka gives them a reassuring smile. The robed figures pass silently through the camp, dark shapes in the pre-dawn mist. An Ewok bumbles past on some errand of its own, not looking up. The Rebels don't notice, the few guards looking right past the approaching Jedi. Ahsoka stands straighter and sweeps a low bow.

"Masters," she greets them.

"Knight Tano," Master Koon puts down his hood. "It is good to see you."

"And you, Master," Ahsoka turns to Padmé and the twins. "This is-"

"General Amidala," Master Ventriss interrupts. She too puts down her hood and Padmé meets her considering gaze with one of her own. The last time they met...Ahsoka realizes that must have been during the Clone Wars, before Master Ventriss's return to the Light. They would have been enemies. It is strange to think that they have both been fighting the Empire and never met as friends until now. "My congratulations on your victory."

"It was not my victory," Padmé says. "It was _our_ victory."

It's a gracious gesture and Master Ventriss inclines her head with a smile that transforms her face. Padmé smiles in answer.

"My daughter," she says and Leia offers a slight bow. "Leia Organa."

"My sorrow for your loss," Master Ventriss says simply and Leia ducks her head.

"Thank you," she says and Padmé puts an arm around her.

"And my son," she says. Luke swallows, stealing glances at his mother and sister as the other Jedi look at him. "Luke Skywalker."

"A pleasure to meet you both," Master Ventriss says. She projects a calm sense of welcome and careful joy through the Force. Both Leia and Luke stare and Ahsoka feels their response, tentative and untrained, but genuine. Master Ventriss smiles at them. "There is much for us to discuss but that must come later, I am afraid."

Padmé draws herself up, echoes of the Senator and Queen she once was shining through. "Yes. Please, come in."

The hut opens out to the sky as they come through the doors. Wicket's invitation had implied that it was normally some kind of meeting house for the tribe. There is enough room for them all. Padmé leads them, crossing to the bed where Master Anakin is sitting. The few days in open air have taken the edge off his pallor and he's grown a faint stubble on his head. The Force, rich and abundant on this little moon, seems to be granting him a swifter recovery than they could have hoped for.

"Masters," Padmé places a hand on his shoulder and he reaches up to take it. He moves stiffly and Ahsoka watches as the Council looks him over with inscrutable eyes. Their combined Presence is watchful, wary but not aggressive. 

"Master Skywalker," Master Ventriss says and he shakes his head.

"I'm no Master."

"Your Padawan has passed her Trials and become an exemplary Jedi Knight," she replies, folding her hands before her. "That is the sign of a Master."

"Snip- _Ahsoka_ is a Jedi Knight by her own doing, not mine," Master Anakin says. "If I contributed anything, it was by giving her an example of what _not_ to do."

Master Ventriss hums and there is another minute of silence. Ahsoka feels Master Ventriss reaching out through the Force when she speaks again. "What is it you are seeking from us? Forgiveness?"

"No," Master Anakin moves stiffly and with Padmé's help he slides off the bed. He kneels before them. "I don't deserve forgiveness. What I have done...no. I have done too much evil. I can only offer my repentance."

There is a murmur through the Force and Master Anakin's grip tightens on Padmé's hand. Ahsoka feels them reaching out and her Master slowly forcing his mind to open to them. It doesn't feel like he's hiding anything, more like he's forgotten how to open. He makes no attempt to hide his memories or his emotions. Ahsoka does not press as the Council does. She chews on her lip as they peruse her Master's memories.

Tas' is the one she's worrying about most. She's not part of the Council yet but she's here as the representative of those who escaped the Temple cleansing. Ahsoka has tried to talk with her about it but Tas' just looks at her and says "You weren't there."

Most of what she picks up are flashes; pain, anger and a despair that steals her breath. The Council gives nothing away until Ahsoka feels a surge of surprise. The memory that caused that surprise is still fresh and the pain is sharp as fresh broken transparisteel. It's the Death Star, she thinks, the Emperor slumping to the floor and electricity in the air. She sees Hux, unmistakable even through the red lenses of Darth Vader's mask and feels the surprise that ripples through the Council.

_Red?_

She thinks that was Tas' but it's hard to be sure. The Twi'lek Knight is staring down at Anakin with her lips parted. Ahsoka feels a surge of trepidation from Luke and turns to offer him a reassuring smile. There's a flicker in the shared memory; a shuttle hanger and Hux. Luke's grief bubbles up in answer and Ahsoka hears his thought so clearly he might as well have spoken it. " _Why didn't he save himself?_ "

There's a hush, like an indrawn breath and Master Ventriss opens her eyes. "I think we have seen enough."

Agreement. Tas' looks over at Ahsoka and folds her arms as she bows her head. Ahsoka senses begrudging acceptance. The other Knight sends a single thought that echoes through the shared Presence of the Council as a whole. " _For Red. Because he saved us._ "

"How terrible." Master Fecash folds her hands back into her sleeves. "How terribly the Dark corrupts..."

"But always, the Light is a beacon for those who repent," Master Ventriss says. "Forgiveness to the penitent is the Jedi way and those of us who have fallen know better than any how valuable that is. Anakin Skywalker, it is the decision of the Council that you are to be reinstated to the Jedi Order. The path before you is not an easy one but it is a necessary one if you truly seek redemption."

Her Master bows as far as his injuries permit. "I-...thank you, Master Ventriss. Masters."

"There will be more to discuss," Master Ventriss says, "but that can wait. There is time to consider and be sure that we are doing what is right. The Galaxy has changed and the Jedi Order must rediscover our place within it. We celebrate the fall of the Sith and the restoration of the Republic and we mourn those who were lost in the fight against evil."

Master Anakin turns his face into Padmé's neck and Ahsoka wonders again how none of them even suspected the truth. Master Koon raises his hood as he turns away and Master Ventriss looks after him with sombre eyes. Ahsoka hesitates to follow him and is distracted by the sharp sorrow from both Luke and Leia. She turns to them, offering her arms and they hug her tightly. Luke is crying and Leia's eyes are wet. It's a good, clean grief, she thinks, clearing the way for healing and growth.

_You will be a fine Master one day, Ahsoka Tano._ Master Obi-Wan's voice makes her look up and she sees him standing over Master Anakin and Padmé like a protective father. He's glowing a faint blue that makes her think of his lightsabre and he projects a steady, comfortable serenity that brings fresh tears to her eyes until she's crying as hard as anyone else.

* * *

It's deafeningly loud in the city, the tail of the Victory Parade still winding through the sky. Namé brushes her hood back as she enters the old Senatorial Apartments where the Rebellion's triumphant leaders are being housed until the recalled Senate can formally reinstate the Republic. Her Ladyship is still on Naboo with her husband, availing of Naboo's skill in creating and fitting prosthetics but she had asked Namé to go to Coruscant on her behalf and in her stead.

Her children, both of them, are being widely féted and Namé thinks that her Ladyship would be proud of their comportment and gentility. Namé has been sending back reports as a good handmaiden should but she is too old for the days-long celebrations and has passed her watch to the younger staff who still enjoy such things. She goes to the floor set aside for the Rebellion's High Command, intending only to seek her bed. She enters the shared reception room to find General Erso staring out of the window. Pilot Rook is sharing a couch with Captain Rex and Captain Andor's K2SO unit is standing by that couch.

"-is only a broad estimate," the droid says. "The Rebellion's record-keeping is wildly inconsistent and many of the reports might be exaggerations or fabrications to make the agents look better."

"The numbers for the Clone Wars are too low," Captain Rex says heavily. "When he was with us, he disappeared a dozen times for every time his death was reported. Lass, I don't think you should-"

"He died for us," General Erso says fiercely.

"Seven deaths that I definitively confirm on Scarif," K2SO says, "and...well, and the beach."

"He was on Jedha," General Erso adds. "When Saw...when the Empire fired the weapon, he was in the room with Saw. I saw him there before Cassian pulled me out."

"And-and Alderaan," Pilot Rook says quietly. General Erso turns and Captain Rex sits up.

"Alderaan? How could he have been on Alderaan? He never said anything about that!"

"He did though," Pilot Rook wets his lips. "We were...after Hoth, we were briefing for the Ryloth mission and Commander Antilles said something about how afraid the people must have been. H-Hux...he said they never knew. They were-were just going about their day, he said, until there was a flash in the sky...and the planet exploded."

He stares down at his clasped hands. "The way he said it...he was there. He sounded like...I don't know. Like he was talking about V-I mean, Master Skywalker. All kind of distant? Like he was reading from a report?"

"The Death Star was fired three times," General Erso says. "And he died each time? That isn't fair, Captain but it's even less fair that no-one knows that he did or what he did for the Galaxy."

"He was your friend," she continues. "He was ours, too. He was part of Rogue One and it's not fair that all he ever had was war and-and fighting and saving people who never noticed."

"That's not true, General Erso," Namé says and the General's eyes snap to her. She lifts her chin. "I knew Master Hux during the Clone Wars. He did a great deal of fighting but he was often in Coruscant too. Checking on Palpatine, probably but it meant that he spent a fair amount of time with General Amidala during her Senate days. Senator Organa believed they were courting, they spent so much time together. Even we handmaids believed it."

"The General, General Skywalker that is, used to drag him off whenever we were on shore leave," Captain Rex adds. "We didn't know what he was doing back then but we knew he was doing his best by us. We loved him too, you know? He never was comfortable. Always seemed like he was waiting for us to say it was a big joke."

"He was like that," General Erso rubs her eyes. "I promised myself that when it was over, we were going to take him somewhere peaceful and keep telling him that we cared until he believed it."

"We had similar plans," Namé says. "Representative Binks was going to bring him to Naboo so the Gungans could feed him up, if I remember correctly."

Pilot Rook laughs then immediately snaps his mouth shut again. General Erso heaves a great sigh. She looks over at Namé and waves a hand to the couch and the table with a neat line of bottles. "Would you like to join us? Cassian is off with some old friends and the Guardians are helping the Jedi reclaim their Temple."

"I would be honoured," Namé says. "It is ...good to be able to speak of Master Hux to those who knew him."

"Aye," Captain Rex takes a glass from the table. "I'll drink to that."

"We all will," General Erso says and glances sidelong at the K2SO unit. "In spirit, in Kay's case."

"I don't need to drink to remember Red," the droid says huffily. "I have several back-ups of my memories. I will not forget him."

"Neither will we," Pilot Rook also takes up a glass as Namé takes the chair to his left and offers it to her. He holds another glass to General Erso who stares for a second before she takes it. Then he raises his own. "To Hux."

"To Red," Captain Rex says gruffly and the glasses clink together.

* * *

The Temple is full of light and laughter. Anakin feels the ache of his smile in his cheeks as he slips away. Nobody notices and he's glad of that. It helps ease the tightness in his chest. The flowers that festoon every window fill the air with a sweet perfume that makes him think of Naboo and he can hear the chatter of the guests echoing in from the gardens. He makes his way to the cool meditation area at the heart of the Temple where the sunlight is filtered through coloured glass and the wooden statues cast soothing shadows.

He lowers himself to his knees with care and breathes out as steadily as he can. The Force flows through the room, through him in a gentle storm. He blinks and feels the tear trail down his cheek. It's still strange to be able to touch his own face, the feedback from his new fingers so much more real than his old prosthetics.

"Is everything all right, Master Anakin?"

He turns to the doorway and has to squint against the glare of Threepio's polished shell. "I'm fine, Threepio."

"I am only asking because you seem...well, distressed, sir." Threepio says. "What's that you have there?"

"A kyber crystal," Anakin says. "From Vader's 'sabre."

"Oh. Is that entirely ...wise, sir?" Threepio peers dubiously at the crystal. 

"It's fine," Anakin sets the crystal aside and turns to his nearly finished project. It has been slow work; he is still re-learning how to use his hands for finesse rather than brutality and his legs still ache badly when he spends too long on his feet or knees. More than that, this must be perfect. He will not let it be anything less. It is delicate work and laborious but he does not begrudge the effort. If he sheds the occasional tear when it stirs a memory of Tatooine, Hux and his mother helping him slot together the parts that would become a droid or a pod? Well, he does not begrudge that either.

His memories are not all of sorrow and he is grateful to remember that.

He is nearly finished anyway so he does not object when Threepio dithers in the doorway. Anakin wonders fleetingly what it must look like to the droid who can no more sense the Force than Anakin can recite a Wookie Epic but most of his focus is on his work.

"Master Skywalker?"

"Master Koon," Anakin rises stiffly to his feet and his left leg unfolds jerkily enough that he sways. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I apologize for startling you," Master Koon says with careful formality. They are both careful with each other these days with so much bitter history between them. Anakin regrets that as he regrets so much. 

"It is nothing," Anakin says. He has not gotten any less clumsy with words but he is more aware of his lack these days.

"What are you working-?" He breaks off and Anakin follows his gaze to where the red kyber crystal is glowing. "Is that...?"

"Vader's old krystal, yes," Anakin bends to pick it up. "It's all right."

"You sound very sure," Master Koon eyes him warily. "A crystal bled like that is a potent source of power for the Dark."

"It's not like that," Anakin holds out the crystal. Master Koon regards him for a long second before he reaches out to take it. 

"Oh," Master Koon cradles it in his hand.

"There's no rage left," Anakin says and he sounds like the brash young padawan earnestly explaining why his third lightsabre of the season had broken. He can almost hear Obi-Wan's fond sigh of exasperation. "No hate, no fury. Only...only..."

"Sorrow," Master Koon says gently. The crystal glows like a distant fire in his hand. "I should not have doubted you. This is not a weapon."

"Not anymore," Anakin says around the lump in his throat.

"May I ask what you are going to do with it?"

"I-" Again, words fail him. Anakin takes the crystal back and sets it in its place, amid the carefully constructed framework. It takes a second; the red-gold glow of the crystal spreading through the lenses and fragments of crystal and up into a living column of light. It shines gently; a fire in a hearth calling to weary travellers. It warms the whole of this little room. He stands stiffly and has to blink to see more than the just that gentle sunset glow.

The images that dance through it like flickering flames are a knife to his heart, every one. Master Jinn, smiling like a proud parent: Master Yoda, fondness in every line and wrinkle: Obi-Wan, laughing like the carefree young man he'd never been. Master Windu. Master Yandle. All of the dead. All of the lost. He sees them through his senses; echoes through the Force and alive for just that instant.

"Oh," Master Koon says and his hand comes to rest on Anakin's shoulder. He has to close his eyes as he breathes in but opens them immediately.

The last image -images- aren't just his memories. Threepio has dutifully copied all the images in his memory to holo-chips and there's more, the memories of the Knights and Masters who had fought and survived the Clone Wars. It's barely discernible to normal sight, only truly visible through the Force.

Hux. Hux, resolute and determined. Hux in trooper armour. Hux pointing to the stars. Hux sitting with his face turned away. Hux with his eyebrow quirked. Hux rolling his eyes. Last and most precious, Hux laughing with his hair loose and his eyes shining. Hux, radiant under the twin suns of Tatooine, standing with Shmi Skywalker's arm around his waist and both of them smiling.

"It's beautiful, Anakin," Master Koon says gently. "He would be very proud."

* * *

"Oh dear!" Threepio hurries into the room ahead of her as best he can. "Are you well, my lady?"

"I'm fine, Threepio," Leia pauses for a moment and her breath hisses through her teeth as her muscles lock. "Stop worrying."

"I can't just stop worrying," Threepio hovers as she eases herself down with a heavy sigh. She is more than ready to be done with this whole business. "There are a great many risks associated with childbirth and-"

"Threepio!" Leia shakes her head at him. "I sent Han to fetch me Corellian soba-berries so he wouldn't hover. If I wanted someone panicking all over me, I'd just call him back."

"You are in labour!" Threepio objects. "Surely his place is by your side?"

"I'm not going to have the baby for hours," she laughs through a lesser contraction. "I don't need anything right now. Come on, Threepio, you must have seen hundreds of births."

"No, as it happens," Threepio says primly. "I have only been present for one birth. Well, two. And it was a most alarming experience!"

It takes her a minute to join the obvious dots. Threepio doesn't have facial expressions but she's long since learned to read his body language. She reaches out to pat his hand. "It's fine, Threepio. The medical droids say everything is going fine. Labour can take hours and I don't need medical assistance right this second. We're just waiting at this point. There's no point in getting excited right now."

"I don't think you should be alone!" Threepio complains.

"I'm not alone," Leia smiles. "I have you, don't I?"

"I am fluent in over 6 million forms of communication and I like to think that I have expanded my useful functionality over the years but I really am not a substitute for a properly maintained medical droid with a fully supplied medical suite."

"It's fine, Threepio," she says before the approach of a familiar Presence distracts her.

"Your Highness? Oh dear, are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine," she repeats. "Mother is coming."

"Something _has_ gone wrong! Oh no! Oh what shall I do!? Where's R2 when we really need him?"

"He's with Luke," Leia sighs with relief at her mother's voice. Padmé smiles at her. "Helping your father with that speeder."

_It should keep them busy for a couple of hours,_ she thinks and Leia's smile twists on her face as she breathes through another contraction. Her mother rubs her shoulders and hums as she slowly relaxes. The tune is vaguely familiar.

"Breathe," her mother tells her. Leia's response is lost to another painful clench. "I know. Just breathe."

Leia is bullied onto her feet and walks around the suite of rooms with her mother at her side and Threepio fussing along behind them. Time stretches weirdly as her world narrows to the pain and to the growing sense of her son reaching through the Force. He's ready to be born, she thinks. Impatient as his father and reckless as his uncle. Padmé distracts her with small talk while Threepio brings her endless cups of water and cool cloths.

Her son is born after a brief rush of acute pain and with a wail that makes Threepio startle so badly that he runs into a wall. Leia barely hears Han ordering Chewie to pick up the pieces as R2 whistles in shrill alarm. She's too busy looking into her son's scrunched-up face as the medical droid lowers him into her arms.

"Healthy," it tells her as if she doesn't know. As if she can't feel her son's Presence and all the tumbling confused emotions flooding the Force around them. "No complications."

"Han," she calls and her husband comes running to her side. She lifts their son and sees Han's whole face light with wonder. He reaches out so carefully and their son closes a tiny fist around his fingertip. He's still crying, still confused and disoriented but he quiets with both of them right there. He yawns and makes a fretful little sound until she has him snuggled against her chest. She smiles down at him as Han manages a half-laugh.

"He's perfect," he says and Leia leans into his embrace. "We did good, huh?"

"We did great," she says as the baby blinks big dark eyes at them.

* * *

"R2! Oh dear, do be _careful_!" C-3P0 calls as he tries to keep up. "It's not safe to be rushing around like this."

"It's perfectly safe, Threepio," Master Ani says. "I'm watching him."

"Well you shouldn't have to, sir," C-3P0 frets. "You have more important matters to be concerning yourself with!"

"I'm watching him too," Master Ani says, smiling down at his grandson with obvious warmth. "The whole place is guarded and there are three Jedi in the courtyard if we need any help."

"Oh, do come back, R2," C-3P0 pleads. He still prefers R2 to be close.

"It's all right, Threepio," Master Ani soothes. He might have something of a point, a persistent part of C-3P0 maintains. This palace, a gift from a grateful Naboo to their newly anointed Dowager, is far from any settlement but the Gungans' and hidden away among the trees by the river. There are no enemies here, he knows that. Still...

Master Ani looks well, smiling under the warm sunlight. His new prosthetics look almost natural and his breath no longer rasps in his chest. He can walk without a cane for ever-increasing distances and he can even spar with Master Luke and Mistress Ahsoka for short periods. He prefers to mediate, C-3P0 knows, or spend time with Mistress Padmé but when he gets an idea into his head, he is still capable of great effort.

He enters the small courtyard where the silken canopies shade the fountain and the tiles are a soothing shade of blue-green. He cradles his grandson as he closes his eyes. R2 comes back to C-3P0, having completed his sweep of their surroundings.

"I wish you wouldn't rush off like that," C-3P0 says and R2 apologizes. "I know, I know it's in your nature. I just wish you wouldn't go so fast. I never can keep up with you."

R2's answering trill is more apologetic still and C-3P0 sets his hand on R2's dome as Master Ani breathes in. The two figures who appear silently startle C-3P0 terribly but he is starting to get used to that.

"Master," Master Ani says.

_Anakin,_ Master Obi-Wan looks puzzled. Master Jinn, who is perhaps a trifle more out-of-focus, seems serene. _Is everything all right?_

"Yes, everything's fine," Master Anakin hefts the infant onto his hip. "I wanted to introduce you to someone."

_Oh?_

"Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, meet Obi-Wan 'Ben' Organa Solo," Master Ani says with a wide smile.

_Oh! Oh my!_ Master Obi-Wan approaches to stare at Master Ben while Master Jinn smiles down at them both. _I, well, I'm honoured! I would have thought they'd name him for..._

Master Ani's smile falters and Master Ben, ever sensitive to the moods around him, opens his mouth in a wail. Master Jinn approaches, conjuring some small lights to distract the child and Master Ben focuses on them, tantrum thankfully averted. Master Ani frees a hand to rub at his eyes.

_I am sorry, Anakin._ Master Obi-Wan says sadly.

"I just..." Master Ani swallows. "He should be _here_ , Master. He should have gotten to see the Galaxy at peace and everyone living happily ever after. It's not fair!"

_Be careful of your anger,_ Master Obi-Wan says.

"It's not anger," Master Ani swallows. "Not really. Not any more. I just...I _miss_ him, Master. I wish he could have seen this."

_Hux was bound to the Force in ways we cannot understand even now,_ Master Jinn says. _He may very well have seen this future. He would be pleased to know you are doing so well, Ani. Believe that._

"I try," Master Anakin clears his throat. "I would have loved to see him meeting Ben. He was always faintly horrified by babies, my mother said. But he was good with them. She said that too."

_He did alright with you,_ Master Obi-Wan says teasingly. Master Anakin rubs at his eyes again and nods. He tries to say something but the words catch in his throat and he bends his head over his grandson as Masters Jinn and Obi-Wan smile at them both. It's a very heartwarming picture if C-3P0 does say so himself.

* * *

Padmé jerks awake. Leia is sprawled on the couch opposite, head tipped back as she catches up on much needed sleep. Ben had kept her awake half the night. Padmé sits up, expecting to hear him crying again but the whole suite is quiet. Too quiet. She rises to her feet, scooping up the blaster from behind her chair as she goes. She hears Ben, a soft chuckling sound and another, deeper voice. Padmé feels her blood turn to ice. Her mind is cold and clear as she slips around the corner and through the open door of the nursery.

She does not drop the blaster but it's a near thing.

"Wretch," Hux is standing over the cradle. His hand, bare for the first time Padame can remember, is outstretched and Ben has a firm grip on long pale fingers. "Can't resist the urge to make a nuisance of yourself."

Ben coos and kicks the air. Hux's hair is loose, falling in a soft wave that hides his face and his perfect black uniform is slightly creased, edges worn. His voice is soft and fond despite the exasperated words and he looks more human than she can ever remember seeing him. Padmé sets her blaster aside without a second thought.

"Have they been watching you?" Hux asks the infant. "Keeping away the nightmares?"

Ben gurgles and the man laughs, a short huff of sound.

"They say that Jedi used to take their apprentices from the cradle," Hux says, still soft. "They won't take you, I trust. You'll learn the Force from your mother this time. No voice from the Dark."

He straightens, fingers slipping free and Ben's face puckers immediately, mouth opening wide around the in-breath of one of his howls. Hux sighs and reaches down to take him up. His hands are a little clumsy but his grip is sure and Ben's face clears into a dazzling smile.

"Demanding as ever," Hux says almost sadly and he sits the baby into the narrow angle of his hip. "You are categorically forbidden from wearing a helmet, do you hear? Your grandfather's helmet was an abomination. Necessary but appalling. You..."

He tips his head and Ben grabs for his hair. Hux yelps but very quietly. Ben flails his hands and Hux laughs again.

"You were worth it, I suppose. In the end." 

Ben's smile dims a little at the sorrow infusing the room and he grabs for Hux. Hux rocks him back and forth and a yawn escapes the baby. Hux starts to hum and Padmé feels a lump in her throat. She remembers that song, lying on the bed in the shuttle as the pain and betrayal wracked her. She'd never gotten to ask where it came from. It stirs the old fears in her heart but more, the memory of gloved hands and a desperate hope that she hadn't been able to feel herself.

Ben yawns again and makes a whiny noise in his throat like he doesn't want to sleep. Hux hums, swaying a little and Ben's whines get softer and his head sags against a black-clad shoulder. Hux keeps swaying and humming until Ben is fast asleep, fingers still caught in copper hair. Padmé almost steps forward again but Hux sighs, a deep sorrowful sigh that bows his shoulders and gently disengages Ben's fingers.

He holds Ben up in front of him with hands under the infant's armpits for a moment, then he kisses Ben's forehead and sets the sleeping child back into the cradle. Padmé sees the wet gleam on his cheeks and feels her heart twist. Hux runs those pale fingers through Ben's cap of dark curly hair.

"You," Hux's voice catches and he ducks his head. "You are to be happy, you hear? Be Ben. Find someone you love and let them love you. Trust that your family loves you and that you are not alone. Be happy. Please."

His voice cracks and Padmé has to move, has to reach for him. Hux doesn't see her, tips his head back to stare blindly at the ceiling.

"It's all been for you," he says and now there are tears on Padmé's cheeks too. "I don't want it to end. I never did but it will be better this way. You always deserved to be happy and kriff, maybe they'll tell you about me? Someday. They won't know the whole thing and it's better that way. It is."

He touches Ben's cheek, smoothing away the disquiet creasing the corner of his eye. "One last life to save. One last death. I don't think it'll hurt. Not this time. I've earned that much, I think. It's for the best, really. There's no place for me here. The Galaxy is better like this."

There are more tears but Hux is smiling. "I'm so terribly selfish though. I wish you'd remember me. I wish I could see you grow up, see the man you always should have been. That's why... it's better I go now. Better that I never came."

Padmé reaches out, her hands almost brushing his coat and Hux startles, up and away and his eyes are red. She thinks, inanely, that he's never looked more human. He looks at her, then back at Ben and his lips move.

He's gone before the word is spoken and Ben's eyes open as he screams...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soundtrack for the fic on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7dAdQrJ0eoxfQFzlwA5JvB)


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